Time to Heal
by PhasL
Summary: Rewrite of my original story. Erik finds himself in England working as an architect for a wealthy family while struggling to overcome the demons of his past. COMPLETE
1. Arrival

Arrival

We know what a person thinks not when he tells us, but by his actions - Anatole France

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**A/N: Well here it is, the first rewritten chapter of "Time to Heal." I like it, and hope that you will enjoy it as well. Tell me what you think in a review. Oh and also...Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera in any way shape or form. I do own the plot of the story though, along with all the originial characters.**

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The rain pattered against the ground, bouncing off the blades of grass and the cobblestone drive, causing them to glitter in the fading light. In front of him the manor loomed as an ominous shadow against the bleak sky.

It had been Madame Giry who had sent him here, to the estate nestled in the English countryside, recommended as an architect. So now he stood with the rain pelting down on him, soaking through his already wet clothes. He didn't want to climb those stairs up to the porch, or to knock on the door to meet people he did not want to meet. And yet somehow he found himself in front of the large oak door, slamming the brass knocker against it three times.

"Yes?" a maid, asked, peering at him from beneath red bangs.

"Bon soir, est ce que-" he bit his tongue, "good evening, is this the Beaumont estate?"

"Yes it is, sir," the maid squeaked, opening the door fully, "please step inside, I will get Monsieur Beaumont for you. May I ask your name?"

"Simply tell him the architect is here," Erik replied, eyes sweeping the large front hall to take in the marble floor and large staircase that lead to the landing above.

"Yes, sir," the maid said, bowing low before scuttling off like a mouse.

Erik remained by the door, observing his surrounding until Monsieur Beaumont arrive. He then turned his eyes on the older man's slightly plump form and bushy moustache.

"You are late, Sir!" the count barked, "We expected you an hour ago."

"I was delayed," Erik replied smoothly.

"You are also dripping on my floor."

"It is raining," Erik pointed out, "something that I am sure you are aware of. The weather has been terrible all day, hence; my delay."

The count just frowned, seemingly unable to come up with an argument. It was at that moment that a women entered, her greying blonde hair swept back in a neat bun, "is he here?" she asked, turning her attention to Erik, "oh, is this him, Richard? My, what a handsome young man."

"Yes that is him," Richard grumbled.

Erik gave a small bow, "Good evening, Madame."

"A French accent?" she asked, "how curious. Richard, you never told me that he was French."

"I did not think it was pertinent information," he replied.

"Well," the countess said, turning her attention back to Erik, "let's have a look at you. Come on, off with that cloak."

Erik stiffened slightly at the request and reluctantly shouldered off the clock. He knew he looked a mess, his clothing all soaked through and clinging to his lithe form. His shirt stuck out from under his waistcoat and his cravat had loosened over the trip. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she gave him a once over, crossing his arms over his stomach when he had finally had enough.

"Thin aren't you?" she tutted, "and it looks as if the trip has left you a little worse for wear, hmm?"

"Perhaps," he agreed.

"Sir," the mousey maid squeaked, "the man's belongings have been taken up to his room, and the cook wished to inform you that supper will be ready in ten minutes."

"Very well then, tell my son then," he grumbled, waving her away.

She gave a quick curtsey and hurried off, "Yes, Sir."

"You must be hungry," the countess said, smiling kindly, "come and I will show you to your room. You can then get changed and come down. The dining room is just through those doors there."

Erik nodded his head following her hand with his eyes, before following her up the stairs and down the hall to the assigned room. She opened the door for him and motioned inside, "This will be yours for as long as you stay here. I hope that you will find it comfortable and will see you in ten minutes for supper."

"Dix minutes," he repeated softly, "very well."

"Ah French," she chuckled, moving to pat his arm.

He drew away quickly and then smoothed his sleeve awkwardly, "I suppose I am used to it."

"Of course," she said, frowning slightly, "well then, dix minutes."

He nodded slowly, "Yes…"

She left his then and he entered the room, giving it a critical once over. It was large, with an oak wardrobe and large four poster bed. A large window occupied the wall opposite the door and beneath it was a large desk, perfect for the work he would be doing. It looked comfortable and was clean, all that he had truly expected and a little more.

He sighed and flung cloak over the desk chair before rummaging through his belongings for clean clothes. He would unpack later, and settled for quickly changing into clean, dry clothes before slipping back out into the hall and making his way down to the dining room.

"He seems like a nice young man," the countess commented.

"He seems cold," Richard snorted, "I am not sure about him, Amanda. He has a peculiar way about him, and he looked ill. Did you notice how pale he was, and that mask…it's just strange."

"Oh be quiet, father," Alex snapped, taking his seat at the table, "you're being terribly vain. If he is as good as Madame Giry said then what should his appearance matter? Or don't you trust her?"

"Of course I do! Her husband was a close friend of mine; and you have not met him yet, Alexandre."

"You two," Amanda sighed, "no fighting please. Alex, how was your day?"

"Perfectly dull," he shrugged.

"If you are not riding or out with that woman you are bored. You have absolutely no work ethic," Richard complained.

"I love Adrienne," he retorted, then ran a hand through his honey coloured hair, "will the architect be joining us?"

"Of course he will," Erik answered, "he was invited, after all."

"Oh!" Alex jumped, turning around to look at him, "good evening."

Amusement flickered through Erik's eyes, his predatory walk often allowed him to startle people, "Good evening."

The boy stood first, offering his hand, "I'm Alexandre, it's a pleasure to meet you…?"

Erik recoiled slightly from the offered hand, only just managing to keep his lip from curling, "Indeed….and my name is Erik."

Alex nodded and moved to clap him on the shoulder. Erik reacted quickly and purely on instinct, grabbing the wrist and twisting the arm around violently, stopping just short of breaking it with a muttered apology.

"Pardoner moi. I injured my shoulder not long ago."

Richard eyed him with suspicion, "Indeed…well, do not let it happen again, hmm?"

"Of course not," Erik agreed, "If you do not mind though, I think I will go to my room now. I'm afraid the trip was more tiring than I though and I am not feeling very well."

"The Chanel can be rough," Amanda said sympathetically, "just have a good sleep."

Erik gave a small bow, "Merci."

He then turned on his heel and glided out of the room and up to his room.


	2. A Midnight Stroll

A Midnight Stroll

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven - John Milton

Memories of blood and death flooded back to him at night in the forms of dreams. Fire licking through the darkness, a knife plunged into the flesh, the courtyard of Mazenderan and the echoing crash of a chandelier. And he could not stop them.

For a short time he had been able to forget, so absorbed was he by his music and the love of a young woman. But not anymore, when all was said and done, when all was finished, he could not escape his own mind, no matter how hard he tried.

He finally abandoned all attempts at sleep and slipped silently from the room, creeping down the hall to the stairs. He didn't care that it was late, or that it was still raining outside. All he cared about was getting away for a while, a distraction from his memories. So he would explore the grounds and learn something of his new surroundings.

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Alex wasn't bothered by the light drizzle as he walked down to the stable. To him it was good weather, and the moon was already beginning to shine through the clouds again. He often wasn't able to sleep at nights, and so would go down to the stable for a ride or simply go for a walk. 

"Sorry," he murmured to the chestnut gelding, "no treats for you today."

He carefully hoisted the saddle onto the animal's back, arranging the pads beneath it and sliding it up so it rested comfortably on the withers before doing up the girth. He waited a minute for the horse to let out its breath before tightening it the rest of the way, then slipped the bride on.

He secured the nose band and throat latch before leading the animal out of the stall and into the aisle. The horse rubbed its nose against his shoulder irritably and Alex pushed it away before leading him down the aisle. He was just passing the last stall when he heard quiet singing.

The song was in another language, and he couldn't make out the words. But it was beautiful and very sad. With a small frown the young man looked into the stall to see Erik stroking the neck of a white Arabian mare, singing quietly to her.

Alex watched him for a moment, as his fingers worked in small, slow circles on the mare's neck before speaking, "She normally doesn't like people."

"Perhaps she has simply not met one who respected her," Erik replied softly.

"I was just going for a ride," Alex said, "would you like to join me?"

Erik eyed him for a moment before unfolding himself from the ground. The mare stood up as he did, shaking the straw and dust from her body, "Yes."

He waited as Erik bridled the mare, frowning when he didn't retrieve a saddle, "I do not use one," Erik explained, "just as I normally do not use a bit. But she does not know me well enough yet for that."

Alex just shrugged and led the way out of the stables, he gave the girth a final check before mounting, then turned to watch as Erik pulled himself onto the mare's back. He stroked her neck before urging her into a walk.

They rode in silence for a long time, trotting down to large flat expanse. The grass shimmered in the pale light of the moon, the small droplets of water appearing diamond-like. Once there Erik leaned forward and said something to the mare, before lightly tapping his heels against her sides.

She immediately leapt forward into a gallop, ducking her head and throwing it from side to side. Erik allowed her the freedom to kick up her heels, enjoying the power that emanated from her fluid motion and the wind whipping past his face. Behind him he could hear Alex's horse following him.

Erik allowed the mare to slow to a canter and then back to walk, turning to watch as Alex reigned in his horse beside him. The young man was grinning, "Good run."

"Indeed," Erik agreed, patting the mare's neck.

They returned to the stable and put the horses back in their stalls before walking back to the house together.

"That was a good ride," Alex commented as they climbed the stairs, "well…goodnight then."

"Good night, young man," Erik nodded.

"You're welcome to ride anytime you want," Alex yawned.

"Thank you," Erik murmured, then turned and went back to his room. He knew that he wouldn't sleep that night, but perhaps with his mind freed he would be able to accomplish something before dawn, and then be able to rest for a while.

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**A/N: News flash: School sucks! And with that out of my system, hope you liked the chapter, I'll try to update again soon...after I get that essay finished...and those journals...and that book review. Of course its all due by Wednesday, so no stress at all! Please leave me a review...please... ;A;**


	3. Discussions Over Breakfast

Discussions Over Breakfast

There are two kinds of people who never amount to much: those who cannot do what they are told, and those who can do nothing else - Cyrus Curtis

Richard stabbed his fork into a sausage, "Unbelievable! The man arrives late, does not attend supper and now he misses breakfast!"

"Well he did say that he was not feeling well last night," Amanda reminded him.

"That is no excuse for missing breakfast. And even if he is still feeling unwell he could at least be courteous enough to have a maid tell us."

"Did you even tell him what time breakfast would be?" Alex asked.

"Of course I did. I had a maid tell him fifteen minutes before breakfast. And you, I do not want you going out at night anymore."

"I just went for a ride on the grounds, father," Alex grumbled, "ask the architect, he joined me."

"What do you mean he joined you? He was sick last night."

"Well apparently he was feeling better, because he went riding with me. Rode the Arabian mare too. He's got talent."

"That means he lied about being sick," Richard snorted, "the nerve."

"Maybe he has insomnia," Alex suggested, "and just couldn't sleep. You're judging him rather quickly, father. You barely even know him."

"I think I know enough," the count argued, "I know that he is an insolent young man and has no idea of how a count, or an employer, should be treated."

"Oh, don't be so hard on him," Amanda tsked, "he's probably just a bit shy."

"I am not shy, Madame," Erik argued, entering the room and taking the empty eat, "am I terribly late?"

"We were almost finished," the count informed him.

"No," Amanda said, handing him a full plate of food, "are you hungry? I would guess so, since you didn't eat last night and no doubt had a long trip."

Erik glanced down at the plate with distaste, "Indeed…do you have coffee?"

"Of course," Amanda smiled, pouring him a cup, "Do you take cream or sugar?"

"Black is fine," Erik replied, taking a sip, "thank you. Have I missed anything?"

"Just boring discussion," Alex answered.

"I heard that you went riding with my son last night," the count said, "is that true?"

"Yes it is," Erik answered, pushing the food around his plate before taking a small bite of egg.

"I thought that you were not feeling well. That is why you missed supper, is it not?"

"It is."

"And yet you felt well enough to go riding at midnight in the rain?" he continued.

Erik raised his eyebrow, "Are you accusing me of lying? I was not feeling well at supper last night."

"Then why-"

"Erik, have you travelled before?" Amanda interrupted, turning the conversation to something she hoped would be more pleasant.

"Oh yes," Erik answered, "often, actually. I have spent the greater part of my life travelling. Or at least it would seem that way."

"Really?" she asked, "where to?"

"Most of Europe and Asia as well as Persia," he shrugged, "I have been too many places to list."

"That sounds exciting," Alex wondered, "it must be nice to have seen the world."

Erik shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose."

"Where were you born then?" Amanda queried, "Your name is Scandinavian, isn't it?"

"France," Erik replied.

"Whereabouts?"

"Near Rouen," he answered, swallowing his coffee and standing, "if you'll excuse me."

He didn't wait for an answer before leaving. He didn't want to answer anymore questions regarding his past. After all, it really was none of their business.

"That was rude," Richard commented once he was gone.

"I think I'll follow his lead," Alex said, then gave a polite smile, "may I be excused? I believe that I have some work to attend to."

"You may," Amanda answered

Alex nodded and left, heading directly for his study afterwards. Once there he opened the door and then closed it, just loud enough that his father would be able to heard, but not loud enough for it to be suspicious. He then snuck as quietly as possible towards one of the back doors that the servants used and slipped outside.

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**A/N: Who conquered the book review? Me! Which means that you all get an update. So please drop me a review and I'll update again soon.**


	4. Business and Afternoon Tea

Business and Afternoon Tea

Few things help an individual more than to place responsibilities upon him, and to let him know that you trust him - Booker T Washington

Erik attended lunch, and even made a show of arriving on time and staying until the meal was finished. Of course it was a nearly unbearable affair. The countess seemed to want nothing more than to fill out his skeletal form, and the viscount seemed to want nothing more than to argue with his father. In the end Erik regretted his decision and had a headache because of it.

He was just going up to his room when a maid cut him off, curtseying quickly, "Pardon me, Sir, but the count has requested you in his study."

"Very well then," Erik growled, turning on his heel to head towards the study.

"Sir!" the maid called, hurrying after him, "the countess also requests your presence in the garden for tea at two-thirty."

Erik gave an irritable wave of his hand, "Very well."

He half expected another request from the viscount, but none came. The maid simply hurried away and he went to the study, knocking once before entering.

"You came?" the count asked, seemingly surprised.

"You sent for me," Erik answered.

"Yes, but I hardly expected you. So far you have arrived late and missed one and a half meals."

"You are my employer, therefore if I am requested to discuss business I will attend said meeting. It is my job, after all."

The count nodded, though he did not seem completely satisfied, "Sit then, and we shall discuss the terms of your employment."

"I am employed to design a house," Erik said, sitting down opposite him.

"Yes, you have been hired to design for me an estate," the count nodded, "I will be building it in France."

Erik nodded, "I see. What are the requirements for this estate? How large is the plot of land that you have for it?"

"I have all the information right here," the count said, handing him a dossier, "everything you need to know will be there.

Erik took the dossier and looked inside, "Very well then. Is that all you require of me?"

"Yes, you may go," the count said.

Erik gave a stiff nod and left the room, pulling his watch from his pocket as he went. One twenty-five, just enough time to put the dossier in his room before tea. It seemed to him that he would have very little peace that day.

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The countess had tea prepared in the garden, with a small plate with little sandwiches and another with small cakes. Erik offered a tight smile as he sat down, looking at the neatly decorated table and flower-printed china. The countess returned the smile warmly and poured him a cup of tea. 

"Here you are," she said, placing the cup and saucer in front of him, "have a cake too."

Erik held up his hand, "No thank you, Madame."

"Hmm, if you say so. How was your meeting with my husband?"

"It was a meeting," Erik shrugged, "nothing out of the ordinary, or anything too exciting."

"You take things well," she said, sipping her tea, "I know that he isn't a very compromising man and that he can be hard to get along with."

"I do not mind, he has been civil to me, that is all I expect from anyone," he gave a wry little smile, "if I even expect that."

"Well, I hope that his requirements are not impossible," she worried.

"They seem to be simple enough. I have worked on far more demanding projects, and far more difficult ones. Now if I may ask a question, Madame?"

"Oh of course, go ahead, ask away."

"I wish to inquire as to why I am here. I can assume that it is not merely for my company, as I am not very good company at all."

She gave a shrill laugh and reached across to pat his hand, which was quickly pulled away, "Oh you are shy, now aren't you. Don't worry, I won't bite. And you are here for your company. You will be living under my roof for a while, so I wanted to get to know you a little better. Now here, have a cake."

He took the cake and slipped it into his pocket.

"Try eating it," the countess said, then gave a small laugh, "and do not look so surprised. You are very good, I didn't even see you slip it away, or where you put it for that matter, but you might want to pretend to eat it, hmm?"

He gave a genuine smile then, though it was more out of embarrassment, "Of course."

"Drink your tea," she encouraged.

He took a sip and barely managed to hide a grimace. He truly hated English tea, "You wish to learn more about me, Madame?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Then I will be honest with you; I cannot stand English tea."

She gave a small laugh, "No?"

"No, I prefer not to drown mine in milk," he said, "perhaps it is from my time spent in Russia, but I truly cannot stand it."

"Well then, I guess next time I invite you I will have to serve coffee as well as tea. Now why don't you eat that cake I gave you?"

"I am not hungry, Madame, so I see no point in eating it," he answered.

"I like you, dear. I think you will do just fine against my husband's unfriendly demeanour."

"As I said earlier: I expect nothing but civility…and perhaps my pay."

Another shrill laugh, "yes, you will do just fine. Now, are you going to finish your tea?"

"I think not," he answered, "if you do not mind though, I would like to finish looking over the details of my employment. May I be excused?"

"Of course, dear," she said, "go along now. I will see you at supper?"

He gave a nod that she could interpret as she wished. Truthfully he had no will to attend another meal. But he would decide whether or not to go when the time came and not before then. If he was hungry he would go, if he wasn't then he wouldn't. Somehow he expected the latter.

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**A/N: Have you ever woken up and been so tired that the first thing you think is: "Man...I can't wait for bedtime?" Yeah...review please.**


	5. Impudent Boy!

Impudent Boy!

We have learned that power is a positive force if it is used for positive purpose - Elizabeth Dole

The maid knocked tentatively on Erik's door. The man was all the talk in the kitchens and maid quarters. The mysterious architect who dressed all in black and wore a mask. When he opened the door she gave a small squeak of surprise.

"S-sir," she said, curtseying quickly, "the count wished to inform you that supper is served."

Erik considered the news for a minute, "Tell him that I am not hungry and that I will consider his offer."

The maid's eyes widened slightly and she bit her lower lip, "Of-of course, Sir."

Erik closed the door and she hurried to the dining room. The count immediately noticed her in the door way, "Yes?"

"He-he says that he is not hungry and will consider your offer," she said hurriedly.

"What?" the count growled, "why that-of all the inconsiderate things. No, he is coming to dinner and that is that!"

"Father," Alex groaned, "couldn't you just…I guess not."

The count stormed up the stairs and hammered his fist against the door before flinging it open, "you open this door, now!"

Erik looked over his shoulder from his seat in front of the desk, "That hardly seems necessary anymore. Is something wrong?"

"I called you for dinner," the count growled.

"Yes you did," Erik agreed, "and I had the maid tell you that I was not hungry. I believe that that was the polite thing to do."

"The polite thing to do would have been to come just as you were told," the count countered, "I do not care if you are not hungry. When you are called for you will come?"

"Like a dog?" Erik demanded, temper flaring.

"Impudent boy!" the count snarled.

"Well, I have never been called that before," Erik replied irritably, "now if you don't mind, I was working."

"I am speaking to you!" the count shouted, "you will not go back to work. It is time for supper and you will come and you will show me respect!"

Erik turned around and curled his lip, "Only one man has _ever_ earned my respect! And no one will be granted that right again! No one! Least of all you!"

The count recoiled at his violent reaction and felt his pulse racing as the man bared down on him, gripped in some terribly rage.

"Calm down," the count breathed, finding his back hitting the wall and Erik still advancing, "God in heaven, calm down!"

Erik froze allowing his hands, which had been slowly creeping up, to drop listlessly to his side. He looked at them and shook his head, "I apologise, my temper can be truly inexcusable at times…"

"Come to dinner and I will excuse this little tantrum," the count said.

Erik nodded his head, "Very well."

"I trust this won't happen again?"

"Not if I can help it."

* * *

The count led the way back to the dining room and Erik followed, grudgingly taking his seat when they entered. The countess seemed pleased at his arrival. 

"What would you like, dear?" she asked.

"Nothing," he spat, "thank you, but I am not hungry."

"Oh, well then perhaps you should just go back to your room," she suggested.

"That would be considered rude," Erik answered, "I will stay exactly where I am."

He knew that she didn't deserve such a curt response, but he could not help himself. He was used to getting his way and did not like it when that did not happen. His temper was not easily quelled, so he spent the dinner glaring at his empty plate. He then followed them into the parlour and said in the chair furthest away from the others and crossed his arms over his stomach.

"You seem unhappy," the count commented.

"I have a stomach ache," Erik replied tersely.

"Well maybe if you ate something," the countess suggested.

"It would only serve to make me ill," he snapped.

"Well then maybe a good night's sleep," she said, "why don't you go to bed? There's no point in staying up if you are unwell."

Erik sighed irritably, "Yes, a good night's sleep might help…good night then."

He stood up and gave a stiff bow before leaving the room and heading up to his own. A good night's sleep; it was definitely something he could use. He hadn't slept well for nearly two weeks, a combination of nightmares and insomnia keeping him from rest. But maybe things would change.

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**A/N: Hey look, two updates in one day. Everyone cheer...yeah...or not. Review at least, please and thank you. Also, lots of Shakespeare make you talk funny so you get weird looks...thought you should know. (Oh, and can anyone else here not upload documents? Because I can't and it angers me...a lot!)**


	6. Temper, Temper

Temper, Temper

Anybody can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody's power, that is not easy - Aristotle

Erik turned over fitfully in his sleep, allowing a low grunt to escape his lips. His brow creased as flashes of the past assaulted his sleep. A noose tightened around a man's neck and with a sharp tug-

"Erik!"

He woke with a start, his breath coming in sharp gasps as cold sweat trickled down his forehead. There was a sharp knock on the door that caused him to jump.

"Erik, are you awake?" Alex called, knocking again.

His throat felt dry and he swallowed to try and wet it, "I-I'm up!"

"Good, because its time for breakfast," Alex said, "will you be joining us?"

"Yes!" he snapped, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes until little light spots danced in the darkness, "just give me a minute."

"Alright," Alex said uncertainly, "see you in a few minutes then."

Erik groaned and hauled himself out of bed, quickly finding the washing basin that was set out. With a shaky sigh he poured the water from the ewer into the basin and splashed it over his face, drawing his wet hands back through his hair. Glancing into the shaving mirror only told him what he already knew; his eyes were red and his face uncommonly pale. Another sigh and he poured the remaining water from the ewer over his head and neck.

He dried his face and changed into clean clothes, then replaced the mask and wig, adjusting both carefully. With a low groan, he exited the bedroom and made his way downstairs, hoping that his appearance would be satisfactory.

"Well, look who decided to join us," the count said upon his entrance.

"Good morning," the countess said cheerily.

"Is it?" Erik retorted.

"The weather is nice and the sun is out," she said, looking him over, "are you feeling alright?"

"Fine, Madame," he answered.

"You look ill," the count said, "pale skin, red eyes."

Erik ground his teeth together and attempted to swallow his anger, "I feel fine."

The countess handed him a cup of coffee and he cursed his trembling hands. It seemed that no matter how well he managed to compose himself he couldn't always trust his body.

"I can see that," the count said, "be careful, those cups are expensive."

"I will be!" Erik snapped, "For it would certainly be unfortunate for one to meet an untimely end!"

"Temper," the count warned.

"Temper?" Erik asked quietly, then slammed the cup onto the table, "you have not seen my temper and should pray that you never do!"

He stood up then, sending his chair clattering to the floor as he swept from the room. The count just stared after him, unsure of what to make of the incident. If he had not seen his temper the night before, or even now, then he was certain that he did not want to see it.

* * *

Alex finished his breakfast quickly and then left, excusing himself to go to his study. He didn't want to be around his father after Erik's outburst. So he did go to his study, figuring that he could at least get some work done and not rouse his father's anger. Of course he didn't expect to find Erik in his study when he entered. 

The man seemed to be completely engrossed in something, fiddling with some little trinket. He didn't even acknowledge Alex's presence, so the young man took the opportunity to observe him.

He hadn't really had the opportunity to look over the architect since he had arrived. He was tall, oddly so, and very thin. But despite that he had an almost majestic grace about him, even as he sat there, long fingers fiddling with the little thing. Those thin fingers moved with a delicacy and didn't stumble even though they were clad in gloves. But it was none of that which had attracted Alex's attention. The first thing he had noticed were his eyes. The right eye was amber while the left was a murky blue-green and, with a start, he noticed that those strange eyes were now locked upon him.

"Have you satisfied your curiosity yet?" Erik asked coldly.

"Oh," Alex gave a nervous chuckle, "I-I didn't mean to stare."

"I am quite used to it," Erik admitted, motioning to the mask.

"The mask, right," Alex said.

Erik gave him a look of disbelief, "You mean you weren't? Well…that would be a first."

"Well, it isn't exactly my business," Alex shrugged, "and it seemed rude to ask…"

"Ah, but staring is polite?" Erik asked, amused to see the man rub he back of his neck awkwardly.

"Yes well…I apologise. I guess I forgot my manners," he laughed, "hard to do in this house."

"Hmm," Erik grumbled.

"At any rate I didn't mean to rouse your temper."

"I expect to lose my commission for that," Erik sighed, "I suppose I should apologise."

"Ha, I wouldn't," Alex admitted, "my father is so used to everyone doing exactly as he wants and having them be perfectly polite to him. I think that he could stand to learn a bit of humility. You know, a little reminder that he's a human like the rest of us?"

Erik allowed a small smile to curl his lips. He liked the young man's attitude, "Yes…just another homo sapien…well, I have work to do I suppose. Good day, young man."

"Will you come to dinner?" Alex asked.

Erik considered it for a moment. He could probably use a meal by then, "yes, I think I might."

Alex smiled and Erik reached out his hand, palm down. Alex frowned and opened his hand to have Erik drop a small brass butterfly into his hand. He looked up in surprise. The little ornament had been a gift from his grandmother, but he had broken it one day. Now it was fixed, all the little parts put back together perfectly.

"Oh…thank you!" he called after Erik. He then gave a small smile and placed the trinket back on the desk and sighed before delving into his paperwork.

* * *

**A/N: Not much to say, hope you liked the chapter adn please leave a review.**


	7. Speak of the Devil

Speak of the Devil

We are our own devils; we drive ourselves out of our Edens - Goethe

Alex took his seat at the dinner table, glancing between his mother and father as he did so, "Good evening."

"Good evening," his mother replied amiably, "do you know if Erik will be joining us?"

"I don't," Alex answered, "he said earlier that he might."

"Well he missed lunch," the count grumbled, "so he had better come for dinner. I wish to speak with that man none the less, so he can't stay locked in his room all night."

"Oh don't be too hard on him, dear," the countess sighed.

"I will be as hard on him as I see fit," the count snorted, "after all he did threaten me, and I will not stand for such behaviour."

"My ears have been burning," Erik said, slipping into the room and taking his seat, "have you been talking about me?"

"Well, speak of the devil," the count said.

"And he shall appear," Erik finished, spreading his hands in front of him.

"Will you be eating tonight, dear?" the countess asked, already filling his plate.

"Yes," Erik answered.

He had managed a short nap during the afternoon, and was feeling a great deal better for it. So he sat quietly through the meal, eating until he was full. That was of course less than half of the food placed before him, but the countess seemed to be pleased that he ate anything at all, and left him alone.

"Oh, you're left handed," she said, watching as he pushed around a piece of carrot with his fork.

"Hmm?" he glanced down at his hand, "I can use both hands with equal skill."

"But you prefer the left?" she asked.

He gave a slight shrug, "Like the devil himself."

"The devil?" the count asked.

Erik gave a shrug of self contempt, "Yes well; even Lucifer was an angel before he fell, no?"

"You're a religious man then?" the count questioned.

"Far from it," Erik replied, "I was raised catholic, but dispensed my beliefs in any god at a young age. You?"

"Christian," he growled.

"Well, that is your choice," Erik shrugged, "you are welcome to your beliefs."

"I should say so. It is my house after all, and speaking of which, I have been meaning to have a word with you, Erik."

"Is that so? I can have my belongings packed and be gone by morning if need be."

"Pardon?" the count asked, brow creasing.

"As I told you before: my temper can be inexcusable at times. I believe that I crossed a line this morning, and would not hold it against you if you asked me to leave."

"A bit presumptuous, aren't we?" the count asked, "I have no intentions of asking you to leave, not yet at least. No, I merely wanted to inform you that you have a week in which to prove yourself to me. In this week you will obey the rules of this house, attend meals without being late and no more of these little rages of yours. If you can accomplish that I will allow you to stay. If not-"

"Then I leave," Erik interrupted.

"Yes," the count nodded, "does that sound reasonable to you?"

Erik shrugged his shoulder, "It is your choice…may I be excused?"

"Of course," the countess said.

* * *

Erik gave a small bow before exiting and returning to his room. A week, that didn't seem like such a difficult request. He could keep his temper for one week, and he could stand to attend every meal and obey the rules of the house. At least he hoped that he could. For if not then he would find himself without work and without a residence for a time. 

He could deal without residence, for he had spent enough time in his life sleeping under the stars that it didn't bother him. It was the work that worried him. He needed this job to keep him distracted. The money meant nothing to him, for he didn't need it in reality. The work truly just served as a way to occupy his mind, and he could not risk losing that.

"A week," he sighed, catching his own reflection in the dark window, "I suppose the devil's apprentice could master that."

'The devil's apprentice,' 'angel of doom' or even 'the devil's child.' He was so sick of those names. He wanted nothing more than for them to melt away along with his past. He didn't want any titles anymore, just his name. He just wanted to be Erik.

* * *

**A/N: Here's and update, hope ya'll enjoy it...yeah. So please review and I shall go back to watching my horror movies.**


	8. Befriending a Phantom

Befriending a Phantom

No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow - Alice Walker

The week passed slowly, and Erik found himself biting his tongue and clenching his jaw so often that it began to hurt. But he managed to keep his temper in check, though at times just barely. He found that if he did not socialise more than was absolutely necessary that he could managed it. So he would attend meals and then swiftly return to his room to work, at least that was his plan. Alex made it a bit more complicated than that.

It seemed that the young man wished to befriend him, though why Erik could not fathom. It was annoying, and even a little frightening. Erik didn't like to allow people into his heart, for experience had taught him that those who he let in often got hurt. Giovanni lost his daughter, Nadir lost his freedom, and perhaps even his life, and Christine…he tried not to let himself think of that.

The viscount was oddly persistent though, jumping on every opportunity he could find. Erik tried to avoid him, but it proved to be rather difficult, for any time he stepped outside his room the boy would pounce like an overly exuberant kitten.

"If you want something say it," Erik growled, smudging a line with his finger. Alex was standing in the door to his room fidgeting nervously.

"Fencing," he blurted out, and when he saw Erik would not inquire as to what he meant he continued, "My father and I were going to get in some practice. I thought you might like to join us."

"I would not."

"Than I will demand that you come. You are employed by-"

"Your father," Erik said pointedly, "you have no power over me, young man. Now please leave me alone, I am busy."

"All you do is work," Alex snorted, "fine, stay in here and rot for all I care!"

Erik gave a low laugh, "I will join you. Your attempts to get me out amuse me."

This seemed to please Alex, and he led the way outside to where his father was waiting. The count raised an eyebrow at Erik, "Joining us?"

"I though I might."

"Very well then," he said, handing him one of he swords, "can you fence?"

"I have never had any formal training," Erik replied.

"Well then I will have to teach you."

* * *

Erik accepted the tutelage and was faced with a painful reminder of how little skill he had with a sword. In his hands a knife or a piece of rope could be deadly, but with a sword he felt oddly clumsy. He actually found that he was surprised that he had not been cut to ribbons in the graveyard, given the number of times he found the point of a sword pointed at his chest or throat. 

"Touché," Alex said, once again jabbing the end of his word into Erik's chest, "you weren't lying when you said that you had no training."

"So I have been told," Erik growled.

"Come on, one more time?" Alex asked.

"Fine," Erik sighed, raising his sword again, "en guard?"

"En guard," Alex smirked.

Erik grunted as he hit the ground, the point of Alex's sword hovering just above his chest. The boy laughed and jabbed him lightly in the chest, "Touché."

Erik scowled and let out a low growl as he drove his feet into the young man's chest, hard enough to know him backwards. Erik quickly got to his feet and pointed his own sword at Alex's throat, "You are too confident in your abilities, young man. I could have killed you."

Alex gave a low cough as Erik stalked back to the house. With the help of his father he got back to his feet and dusted himself off before picking up sword.

"Are you alright, son?" the count asked.

"I think I may have bruised my pride and my chest, but other than that I am fine," he laughed, "I don't think that was fair swordplay."

"No it wasn't," the count agreed, "but he makes a point, you should not be so cocky."

"I guess not…I probably shouldn't have asked him to join us either."

"I do not know about that," the count argued, "it was polite of you to do so, and I think that he had some fun. But I know you, Alex, and you want to make friends with him, don't you?"

He gave a sheepish smile, "Yeah, I guess so. It's a bit harder than I expected though."

"Well, it is difficult to befriend someone who does not want to be befriended," his father pointed out, "maybe you should stop pushing so much. He does stay in his room for a reason."

"I guess so," Alex sighed, "well, I think I will go in now, I should get some work finished. Besides, my ribs and my pride could use some time to heal."

* * *

**A/N: Today I shall give you a piece of advice, one that I should really learn to follow around my house (since I am the black sheep of the family and often have way different opinions than everyone else). So here is goes: A closed mouth gathers no feet. It's good advice...really! Anyways, please leave me a review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	9. Secrets

Secrets

It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power - Alan Cohen

Erik sighed when he heard a knock on his door. He knew what it meant: another pointless meal. With a slight frown he turned towards it as the person's hand collided with the door a second time, "Come in."

"Pardon?" Alex asked, creaking the door open.

"Come in," Erik repeated slowly, "are you deaf, young man, or simply daft?"

"Sorry," Alex muttered, standing in the door and looking into the dark room.

"Am I correct in assuming that you want me to come down for supper?" Erik asked.

"Yes…" he murmured, eyes scanning the room, taking in the foreign garbs that littered the floor and the numerous sketches pinned up on the walls.

"I hope I did not injure you earlier," Erik said, "I fear that I may have overreacted a bit."

"Oh no," Alex chuckled, "just a bruise…wow, these sketches are amazing. Are these all your designs?

"I design buildings," Erik pointed out, "therefore it would be pertinent for me to be able to draw them. And most of them are."

"The right answer would be 'thank you,'" Alex teased, "at least that is what most people say when they are complimented."

"Thank you," Erik sighed, "it seems that I have forgotten my manners."

"SI that the design for my father?" Alex asked, motioning to the page in front of Erik.

"Yes, and it is actually finished…perhaps I will go out tonight."

"Where would you go?"

Erik shrugged, "London, perhaps. Or maybe somewhere a bit closer, I haven't decided yet."

"London is a fair ways away," Alex pointed out.

"Well, as I said, I have not decided yet. I might just stay in," Erik murmured, "after all I have time…nothing but time. Or so it would seem."

"I wish I had time," Alex sighed, "time to travel a bit…time to see Adrienne more often."

"Adrienne?" Erik asked.

"The most beautiful woman alive," Alex said wistfully, "we were friends when I was a child living in France. But then father moved us back to England and we lost touch and I missed her terribly. But then she moved to England two years ago and…and I love her! Oh, we want to get married, but my father won't see it…"

"I see…love. Perhaps the most dangerous of all human emotions. Wars rage over it, people are killed because of it and some take their lives for it…I wish you luck young man."

Alex frowned at the sudden change in Erik's mood. The man had pulled out a ring that was on a chain around his neck and was staring at it with an odd intensity. He seemed to be close to tears as he held that ring.

"Supper," Erik said, the tears and the ring gone as quickly as they had come, "we will be late."

"You'll want to change your shirt first," Alex said, motioning to the sleeves that were covered in smudges of charcoal.

Erik gave an annoyed sigh and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the floor as he found another one. As he was putting the clean shirt on he could see Alex's eyes fixed on his right arm, widened slightly.

"Just ask," Erik prompted, "staring won't answered anything."

"What did you do?" Alex gasped.

Erik pulled back the sleeve to reveal the greenish mass of bruising on his forearm. He frowned slightly at it, annoyed that it hadn't gone away yet, "Morphine."

"What?" Alex asked.

"Morphine," he repeated nonchalantly, "the bruising hasn't gone away yet."

"When was the last time then?"

"Two weeks ago, perhaps a bit less," Erik shrugged, "come, or we will be late for supper and you will get in trouble. Not that it wouldn't be amusing…"

"Wait, two weeks?" Alex asked.

Erik nodded his head, "Yes. It would have been sooner if I had simply stopped, but then I would've had to deal with more than just stomach aches and insomnia. Now, supper?"

Alex didn't get a chance to say anything, for Erik quickly shoved past him, leaving the young man no choice but to follow him down to the dining room.

* * *

**A/N: ...thought I'd update tonight...now I should really go to bed. Please leave me a review if you care to.**


	10. Sorcerers, Vampires and Memories

Sorcerers, Vampires and Memories

There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. - Carl Jung

Alex was glad when his parents told him that they were headed to London for the day, for their plans coincided almost perfectly with his. So he saw them off at the door, listening dutifully to his mother as they left.

"Now remember to tell Erik," she said, "I'm sure he'll come back some time today."

"I will," he assured her.

"We'll be back by five o'clock," she continued, "so make sure that you're ready by then…oh I do hope he gets back before then. It would be very awkward if he has not returned for our guests."

"I'm sure he'll be back," Alex said, "have a safe trip and a good time."

"You too, dear," she said, kissing his cheek, "ta ta."

"Bye," Alex sighed, watching as they got into the carriage, and then as the carriage rattled off down the drive. Then he allowed the smile to leave his face and gave a heavy sigh of relief, "Finally!"

* * *

Erik ran his hand down the mare's neck as he closed the stall door. It was just past noon and he was glad to have had the night away from the estate. The environment there could be suffocating, so exploring the nearby areas had become a blessed relief from all of it. Far better than losing his temper again. 

He walked up to the main house and opened the door to find Alex standing in the front hall. The young man started violently upon seeing him, "You-you're here, and out…in the sunlight!"

Erik raised his eyebrow, "Yes I am, young man. Contrary to popular belief I am a sorcerer, not a vampire. I can go out in the daytime and survive, I can enter a house without invitation and if you throw rice on the ground in front of me it will only serve to make a mess, nothing more."

"No, I'm sorry. You just surprised me…wait, rice? I always thought it was poppy seed."

"It can be either," Erik shrugged.

"Oh...umm, father wanted me to tell you that we will be having guests tonight," Alex said, "They were apparently interested in your work, or something."

"Ah, so I am expected to attend?" Erik asked.

"Yes."

"Well then he is lucky that I returned…perhaps I will go out again."

"But you won't."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Erik asked, "I could easily leave now and it would be as if I were never here. Besides, I have no patience for your father. He is a pompous idiot and I-" he stopped there, he mouth closing with an audible click of teeth, eyes focussing on a point just behind Alex, "who is that?"

A young woman had just entered the room, the smile that had been on her lips slowly fading as her dark eyes fell upon Erik. It flickered back uncertainly and she quickly brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Erik could feel his muscle's tense as she stepped forward, memories flooding into his mind.

'I want you to take off the mask'

'Please take the mask off'

'…I want you to take off the mask, do you hear me, Erik? I want you to take it off right now!'

"Erik, I would like you to meet Adrienne," Alex smiled, "Adrienne, this is Mister Erik."

Adrienne smiled at him, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Erik."

Erik opened his mouth to reply but found his throat oddly constricted and that no words would come out. So instead he closed his mouth and nodded numbly, a smile briefly tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, a pretty frown forming on her face.

Erik could only shake his head, his mind racing for a way to escape.

"Maybe you could say something?" Alex suggested.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle" Erik choked out, making his way to the stairs, "I must go."

"Wait," Adrienne called, causing him to turn around warily, "Alex and I were going to have a picnic lunch. You should join us."

"I can't," Erik replied.

It was not unusual for Erik's moods to change, Alex knew that, and most of the time it was nearly impossible to determine the source of the change. Now however he knew what it was and he watched as Erik's eyes filled with a strange panic, as if he were trapped some how.

"Have you taken ill?" Alex asked, worried by his friend's haunted eyes and ashen face, "you don't look well."

"You needn't concern yourself with my health," Erik muttered, his voice harsh and strained.

"Why don't you come outside?" Adrienne continued, "The fresh air will do you good."

"Non, c'est pas possible," he answered hurriedly, his hands beginning to tremble.

"Pour quoi pas?" she asked, catching him off guard.

"Adrienne," Alex murmured, "come, let him go to his room."

"Please join us?" Adrienne asked.

"I said no!" Erik snarled, fists clenched at his sides.

Adrienne stepped back, her eyes widening at his elevated voice. Alex touched his hand to her back, "Its fine, Erik, just go."

He turned to leave and Adrienne took a step forward, reaching out and grabbing gently at his sleeve, "I'm sorry if I-"

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, snatching his arm away and pulling it towards his chest

Adrienne staggered back, watching his motions as if he meant to hit her, "I-I'm sorry…"

Erik shook his head and allowed his shoulders to drop, "Don't be sorry…and don't be frightened, I would not hurt you. If you'll wait a moment I will join you for your picnic."

"You don't have to," she said softly.

"One minute," Erik repeated, climbing the stairs, "I'll meet you outside in one minute."

* * *

He was true to his word and they made their way slowly down to the pond on the property. Once there Alex spread out a blanket and he and Adrienne sat down on it. Erik seemed to hesitate for a moment before choosing his own spot several feet away, settling down neatly in the grass. 

"Won't he want something to eat?" Adrienne asked quietly.

"No," Alex replied simply, "and if he does then he can come over here."

"Alright," she said, smiling a little.

A lazy hour passed before Adrienne ventured to move from the blanket. Erik had spent his time away from the two of them sketching quietly. She made sure to approach him slowly, watching as his eyes flickered towards her and then back to the page.

"That's very good," she commented, looking over his shoulder at the sketch.

"Thank you," he murmured, adding a few more details to the sketch.

"What is it of?" she asked, "It looks like a courtyard of some sort."

"It is the khoum's courtyard at the palace of Mazenderan," Erik answered.

"Mazenderan?" Adrienne repeated.

"Yes, it is in Persia…"

Adrienne watched as he added the final details to the scene: two men facing of, one dressed all in black with a mask obscuring his face, the other clutching at some sort of sword. With a quick flick of the wrist he added a thin rope in the hands of the masked man.

"He looks frightened," Adrienne noted, frowning at the man with the sword.

"Most people are frightened when they face Death," Erik said quietly.

Adrienne frowned, "Oh…"

"Yes," Erik murmured, "the 'Angel of Doom' struck fear into the hearts of all men."

"Have you ever been to Persia?" she asked.

"Yes, I lived there for a time," Erik answered, "as an architect…among other things."

"You worked in Persia?" Alex asked.

"Yes, I built an ingenious palace for the shah," Erik nodded, "it was a truly remarkable piece of architecture…too remarkable."

Alex watched as Erik slipped the sketch into his portfolio, "Would you show us the rest?"

Erik shrugged and pulled out several of his sketches and began flipping through them. There were many; some of his home under the opera, others of distant lands and some of subjects that he found interesting. There was one of a melting candle that Adrienne found interesting, and another of a skull that Alex seemed to like.

"These are all amazing," Adrienne sighed.

"Not all of them," Erik argued, "Many are far too rushed."

"What's this?" Alex asked, taking out a sheet of music.

Erik scowled and took the sheet from him, crumpling it in his hands, "It is nothing, young man."

"It looked like music," Adrienne said, "do you compose?"

"Once," Erik muttered.

"I used to play the piano," Adrienne said meekly, "but I can't say I was that good."

Erik shrugged, "Improvement only comes with practise."

"I never liked to practise," she admitted.

"Then it is no wonder that you weren't very good," Erik concluded, opening his hands and allowing a lick of flame to turn the paper into ash.

"Oh my!" Adrienne gasped.

Erik brushed the ashes from his hand, "A bit of magic."

"Excuse me, but could I ask a favour of you, Monsieur?"

"Yes, what is it, Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"Could you look me in the eyes when you speak to me?" she asked.

Erik nodded his head slowly, realising that he had been doing one of the things he hated to have done to him, "Yes, I apologise, Mademoiselle. It's just…you look very similar to a young woman I once had the misfortune of meeting."

"Well I'm not her," Adrienne pointed out.

"No, you are not," Erik murmured, trying to drag his eyes to meet hers, "and I am sorry."

"You're doing it again," she pointed out.

He nodded his head and finally pulled his eyes up to meet hers, "I am sorry. Tell me, Mademoiselle, do you miss France?"

"Very much so at times," she answered, "but I don't mind England. And you?"

"I miss parts of it," Erik said thoughtfully, "the language mostly. I also find England to be far too wet for my tastes, it is always raining here."

Adrienne gave a little laugh, "Yes, I guess it is."

Erik gave a small smile, allowing himself to observe her for a moment. She did look very much like Luciana, with the same raven coloured hair and dark eyes, but upon talking with her he could almost forget that, though he still remained wary of her.

"Where did you go last night, Erik?" Alex asked, pulling him away from his observations.

"Here and there," he answered, moving over to the pond and casually dipping his fingers into the cool water, "London."

Alex dipped his hand into the water as well, "Nice and cool…"

He glanced over at Erik then and a mischievous smiled graced his features. The man seemed to be in a good mood, trailing his thin fingers through the water peacefully. And the water wasn't really cold, in fact it was quite pleasant on such a warm afternoon.

There was only a loud splash and Adrienne's scream before both men disappeared into the water. Erik surface first, hand pressed to his mask as he looked down upon the water with smug pleasure. It was only when he stepped back that Alex surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

"My God! Were you trying to drown me?" he coughed, sloshing back onto the grass.

"Never," Erik answered, slicking his hair back, "though it might have been amusing."

"Amusing?" Alex gasped.

Erik gave a sharp laugh, "Well, I am quite refreshed. Aren't you, young man?"

"Oh yes,' he answered sarcastically, "a good drowning always refreshes me."

"I thought it might," Erik chortled, "well, I think that I shall go change into some dryer clothes. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

Alex rolled his eyes and watched as Erik snatched up his portfolio and began his walk back to the house.

"I will see you later!" Erik called over his shoulder.

"He is a strange man," Adrienne commented.

"Indeed, he is a bit odd," Alex agreed, "but a good man, if you can get used to him."

"Do you want to go get changed?" she laughed.

Alex smiled and kissed her, "I think I would rather stay here for a little while longer."

* * *

**A/N: Long chapter here, but still enjoyable I hope. Please drop me a review and I will update soon...hopefully.**


	11. Dinner Party

Dinner Party

The capacity for getting along with our neighbour depends to a large extent on the capacity for getting along with ourselves. The self-respecting individual will try to be as tolerant of his neighbour's shortcomings as he is of his own. - Eric Hoffer

Erik sighed quietly as he watched the guests enter the front hall from above. He would join them eventually, most likely at the very beginning of dinner, but he would not put himself through the introductions and greetings at the door.

So he went back into his room and started to get ready, changing into his evening wear before rifling through his belongings to find a black half-mask. With a small sigh he switched it with the white one before going over to the mirror to check his appearance.

* * *

Amanda smiled as she guided her guests into the dining room, "It is so good to see you all again, and the children as well." 

"Yes, well the nanny took ill," the woman sighed.

"Quite alright, Madeleine," Amanda assured her, "they've grown so much wince we last saw them. Charlie must be twelve by now!"

"Yes, and Jane is ten," Madeleine smiled.

"And you and Charles have been well?"

"Oh yes, I can see that he and Roberts are already discussing business with Richard," she laughed, turning to look at the three men behind her.

"Men," Amanda scoffed.

"Excuse me?" Alex teased, "You don't see me discussing business."

"Of course not," Amanda laughed, "now tell me, he did return didn't he?"

"Yes," Alex answered, "but…well he didn't seem to inclined to join us, if you get my meaning."

Amanda clucked her tongue," No, I suppose he wouldn't be too eager. Oh well, I do hope he'll show up. These men are here to look at his work after all."

"Oh…well yes, most likely," Alex laughed uneasily, "I could go ask…"

"No, no, just come and sit down for dinner," Amanda said, opening the doors to the dining room.

As they sat down the older man turned to Richard, "Where is this architect you speak so highly of, Richard? I thought you said he would be here."

"Well, he should be down any moment now," he answered, "or at least he had better be down soon."

"Who had better be down soon?" Erik asked, slipping into the room and taking his seat, "I don't think that there is anyone left upstairs, though I could be wrong."

"Good evening, Erik dear," the countess greeted, "I would like to introduce you to our guests. Robert of Wellington, Charles Mansey, his lovely wife Madeleine and their two beautiful children Charlie and Jane."

She motioned to the guests in turn, the steely haired gentleman, then the younger brown haired man and his blonde wife and there two children, each with sandy-blonde hair. He gave a stiff nod, "A pleasure, I hope I did not inconvenience anyone with my late arrival, but I am afraid that I was away earlier and was not aware that you would be coming until I returned."

"It is quite alright, dear," the countess chortled, "dinner is just being served."

Erik managed a small smile, "Splendid."

"So, you are this amazing architect that Richard has been telling us so much about?" Robert asked, giving him a once over, "how interesting. You seem a bit young."

"Well I can assure you that the boy has talent," Richard chuckled.

"And he isn't that young," Alex handed.

"Thank you, young man," Erik said dryly.

"Well?" Robert asked, "you never did say your age."

Erik turned to Robert, "I have lost track over the years, to be truthful. I believe that I would be about thirty-three, and I can assure you, Monsieur, that I have had extensive training in architecture. I spent time in Rome studying with a master mason when I was younger. I was his apprentice for two years and he had had every confidence in my ability."

"Oh, were you trained at the Villa Medici?" Charles asked.

Erik's eyes darkened slightly, but he managed to civil reply, "No, I am afraid that the French Academy was not available to me…there were complications, you see."

"A shame," Charles murmured.

Erik shrugged, "Perhaps.

"Now, now," the countess sighed, "enough of this talking. Eat everyone!"

Alex somehow managed to keep up a lively conversation during the meal, asking questions about the guests' lives and their families. It was amazing that all of the food on his plate managed to disappear through all that talking while Erik, who remained quiet, ate nothing. Instead he pushed the food around lazily, ignoring the conversation at the same time.

"Eat up," the countess said quietly.

Erik raised his eyes from his plate and took a small bite, "I'm not very hungry, Madame."

"You should eat more," she chided, "you never eat."

"I eat when I am hungry," Erik objected.

"You're supposed to eat three meals a day," Jane chimed, "that's what mother says."

"Uh-huh," Charlie agreed, "and you're always supposed to use your knife and fork…it's polite."

Erik gave a small smile and, with a small flourish of his hands, both utensils disappeared. This elicited a small gasp from the children, whose eyes widened in amazement, "Well, since it seems that I have neither I suppose I won't be able to finish the meal."

"I expect to get those back," the count grumbled.

Erik gave an arrogant shrug and reached for his wine glass, "You might."

"And don't drink on an empty stomach, it isn't good for you," the count added.

Erik gave a slight frown and tipped the glass to his lips, quickly draining it of its contents. The count just shook his head and went back to his meal.

Once supper was finished everyone moved to the parlour, where Alex managed to drum up another conversation. Erik sat in the corner and allowed the conversation to wash over him, occasionally picking up on one thing or another. It was strange, even to himself, but as Alex laughed and carried on he found himself oddly jealous of the young man. After all, Alex was able to hold a conversation perfectly, no matter what the topic or who he was talking with. Something Erik knew that he could never do.

"Well, we are here to look at your work, aren't we?" Robert finally asked, pulling Erik from his thoughts.

"Yes, I vaguely remember being told that," Erik agreed, "if you will excuse me for a minute I can go get some of my work."

Erik fetched the designs for the count's house from his room, along with several other sketches. Upon returning he spread them over the coffee table and explained the designs. Both of the other men seemed to be fascinated by them, and Erik continued to answer their questions until he got bored.

"These really are amazing," Charles said, "tell me, will you be taking commissions once you are finished with Richard's estate?"

"Unfortunately I am not," Erik said, rolling up the designs, "I will actually be leaving England once I am finished."

"You will be?" Alex asked.

"Of course, young man," Erik said, "I am only in England for business. I have no permanent residence here; therefore once I am finished I will be leaving."

"So you will be returning to France?" Amanda asked.

"Actually I believe I will go to Rome for a time," Erik shrugged, "I have grown rather tired of France over the years and am in need of a change of scenery. I would stay in England, but I cannot stand all the rain you get here."

"Well, Rome is a nice city dear," Amanda smiled.

"So is Madrid," Erik said, "or Moscow, or maybe even somewhere in America."

"You enjoy travelling then?" Madeleine asked.

"I suppose so," Erik replied with a shrug, "I have spent my entire life travelling, so I guess it might be more in my blood than anything else."

"Where have you been?" Jane asked.

"All of Europe and much of Asia," Erik answered, "I have even been to Persia and back, and do you know what I did there?"

"No," she shook her head, "what?"

"I built a palace for the shah."

"Shah?" she asked.

"Yes, the king of Persia," Erik explained.

"You've built a palace?" Robert asked sceptically.

"Yes," Erik answered, "probably the grandest thing I have ever designed, certainly the most elaborate."

"And how old were you then?" the count asked.

Erik shrugged and attempted to do the math in his head, "I believe I arrived when I was about…nineteen. So I would have returned to France when I was about twenty-two, maybe twenty-three."

"You certainly have a colourful history," Madeleine laughed.

"That is one way to describe it," Erik shrugged, "now, if it would not be deemed too rude, it is getting late and I would like to retire for the night."

"Of course not," Madeleine smiled, "we should be getting along anyways, after all the children need to get to bed."

"Indeed," Robert agreed, "I should be returning to my wife."

* * *

The good byes were said, and Erik could not avoid them. So he shook the hands of the men and kissed Madeleine's hand obligingly. It wasn't his favourite thing, but he knew the proper ways of society, even if he did not enjoy them. 

"You never told us that you would be leaving," the countess said, once the guests were gone.

"And I was never told that I would have to sit through all that," Erik retorted, "it seems we were both surprised today."

"Oh, I suppose that worked on your nerves, didn't it?" she asked sympathetically, "but you did well, dear. I half expected you to make yourself disappear like the silverware!"

"Tempting," Erik sighed.

"Well, at least we learned something about you," the count said, "you, Sir, could easily be a politician. You can put on quite the face when you want to; you even tricked me into believing that you were a charming gentleman."

"I could also make all my opponents disappear," Erik remarked.

"And that wit of yours can be quite cruel."

The countess gave a shrill laugh and squeezed Erik's arm affectionately. He balked away from the touch and she pressed her lips together sympathetically, "Tsk, well get to bed then. And I cannot see you as a politician; you are far too shy."

"Au contraire," Erik muttered, "I am not shy, Madame. I simply dislike people as a general rule. Good night."

With a stiff bow he left, turning on his heel and making his way back up to his room. He suddenly wanted away from England, away from all the social obligations he had staying in the count's house. The old urge to travel had been stirred in him that night; it was one of the many things that the Gypsies had left with him; the need to move from place to place.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, hope you liked this chapter, I'd like to thank all my reviewers right now, since I didn't respond to really any of them for the last chapter...sometimes I just get really lazy. But I do love you guys...if that doesn't creep you out. Please leave me a review.**


	12. All Work and No Play

All Work and No Play

_The true way to render ourselves happy is to love our work and find in it our pleasure - Francoise de Motteville_

The work in France was something that Erik had not been looking forward to. He didn't want to return to the country so soon, but found that once it started he could tolerate it. He would spend days working on the site before returning to England as was requested by the count. After all the man wanted updates on the construction, and Erik wouldn't deny him that. Still, between the time travelling and working Erik found very little rest.

"Where is Monsieur Erik?" Adrienne asked one afternoon, "I have not seen him in so long."

"France would be my guess," Alex shrugged, "he's been working on the new estate a lot recently. We barely ever see him around here anymore."

"But that's such a long trip!" Adrienne exclaimed.

"Yes, and he lets you know it. Believe me, the man is not pleasant to be around when he's exhausted," Alex laughed, "but the moods pass fairly quickly and he claims to enjoy the work."

"Hmm…we should go out this afternoon," she suggested, "we could go for a ride, or for a walk maybe."

"It looks like rain," Alex noted, "and heavy rain at that. I think it would be best if we stayed in the house for the day."

"I guess it does look like a storm," she sighed, "but we could still go out to the garden. It just gets so boring inside the house all the time."

"Yes, I suppose it does…I thought I heard the door," he frowned slightly, "Hello?"

"Good afternoon," Erik replied, stepping into the doorway, "oh…bonjour, Mademoiselle."

"Bonjour," she smiled, "comment ça va?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "Ça va."

"You look tired," Adrienne noted.

Another shrug as he sat down, "Perhaps."

"Is work going well?" Alex asked.

"I suppose so," Erik answered, "there have been no problems, if that's what you mean."

"Well that's good, my father would hate to hear that you ran into trouble," Alex laughed.

Erik gave a tired little smile, "Yes, but it has only been two and a half weeks, there is still plenty of time for things to go wrong."

"You sound like you expect them to," Alex noted.

The corners of Erik's mouth twisted down slightly, "Yes…well, things do happen."

"We were going to go out to the garden," Adrienne said, changing the subject quickly, "would you care to join us?"

Erik sighed quietly, "I think I will go and get some rest, actually."

"Suit yourself," Alex said, "we'll be in the garden if you need us. Mother and father are out for the night, just so you know."

"So no rules," Erik said thoughtfully, "that will be a nice change. I have never been one for rules."

Erik managed a half hour long rest and, though it was not as much sleep as he would have like, it did refresh him a bit. So he left his room and headed down to the garden.

* * *

The garden was truly one of the most beautiful parts of the entire estate. It was enclosed by stone walls, which managed to keep out most of the wind and protected the delicate rose bushes and other flowers and trees inside. It was a very peaceful place, with its little cobblestone paths and lazy fountain. 

Erik brushed his fingers against the delicate leaves and petals of the plants as he walked, finally finding a small stone bench to sit on.

"So you decided to join us?" Alex jested.

Erik started at the sound of the young man's voice, quickly turning his head to look at him and Adrienne. He had believed them to be inside, "So it would seem."

"Did you sleep well?" Alex asked, plucking a dead leaf off one of the plants.

"Hmmm?"

"You did go to take a nap," he reminded him, "did you sleep well?"

"Not particularly," Erik murmured, "but it was better than nothing. I read for a while."

"What book?" Adrienne asked.

"Err?"

"What book did you read," she laughed.

Erik gave a small smirk and gave a lofty shrug, "Oh…I do not remember the title."

"You seem a bit out of it," Alex teased, watching as Erik's eyes trailed around the garden, "what are you looking for?"

"Beauty," Erik said softly.

"And have you found it?" Adrienne asked gently.

"Yes…" he trailed off and made a thoughtful noise, "it is going to start raining, we should go inside."

Alex and Adrienne followed him in through the glass doors to the ballroom and, just as they stepped inside, rain began to pelt against the ground. They all turned to watch as the slight drizzle turned into a torrent.

"How did you know it was going to rain?" Adrienne gasped.

"I have learned many things in my travels," Erik answered, "and when one spends so much time outside, one has to learn when the weather will turn."

"Well, lets get to the parlour then," Alex said, as a low rumble of thunder echoed through the air. Then he began to lead the way across the ballroom, pausing in the middle and bowing to Adrienne, "care to dance, Milady?"

She laughed and curtseyed, "Why of course, Sir."

Erik almost rolled his eyes and Alex led her into a waltz, guiding her across the floor in fluid and trained motions. Adrienne smiled the entire time, and gave a small laugh when Alex spun her out and then claimed a kiss upon pulling her back it.

"Do you dance, Monsieur Erik?" Adrienne asked when Alex let her go.

"Oh no," Erik said, "I never learned to dance like this."

"No?" she asked, "but you do know other dances?"

Erik nearly blushed at the question. He certainly did know other dances, but nothing like the formal and stiff ones used in formal society. He was far more aware of the sensual and sexual gypsy or Persian dances. The kinds that were meant to be provocative and full of desire. Of course he had seen dances from across the world, but had never stayed in one place long enough to truly learn any of them.

"Let us just say nothing I care to demonstrate," he finally said, then gave a quiet laugh, "ballet?"

"You know ballet?" Alex laughed, "Surely you jest."

"Well, merely the absolute basics," Erik shrugged, "I spent a lot of the time at the theatre once…I can curtsey quite well."

Adrienne laughed, "But can you pirouette?"

"I cannot say that I have ever tried," Erik admitted, making his way towards the parlour, "I will be in the parlour if you need me."

"We'll be there in a minute," Alex called.

* * *

Once in the parlour Erik plucked a book from the shelf and settled into the armchair he had claimed. Alex and Adrienne entered shortly after him, curling up on the sofa together as the storm raged outside. Between that and his book Erik was nearly oblivious to the world, allowing the rumble of thunder and the words on the page to absorb all his attention. 

Erik was finally jolted from his reverie with a crack of thunder and a sharp scream. His book quickly snapped shut as he looked up, seeing Adrienne squeezing Alex's arm tightly. He let out a long sigh and opened the book again.

"Are you afraid of thunder, Mademoiselle?" he asked nonchalantly.

"N-no," she murmured, "it just startled me."

A flash of lightening and her grip on Alex's sleeve tightened. Erik watched with disinterest, "I have always found storms to be somewhat inspiring, but not terribly frightening. It is just nature after all."

"They're just so loud," she breathed, "and it gets so dark out during storms…that's all."

Erik glanced over to the windows as the rain lashed against them and the wind howled, "Yes, I suppose I could see why they would seem frightening…"

"So, when are you returning to France?" Alex asked.

"Whenever I feel like it; probably in two or three days," he shrugged, "I'll update your father on the progress and then return."

"You should stay for a while," Alex suggested, "you know what they say: all work and no play-"

"Keeps me sane," Erik finished softly, I get terribly bored without something to occupy my time, and I have found that that is not healthy."

"What did you do before you came here?" Adrienne asked.

"I…" Erik trailed off thoughtfully. What could he say? Certainly not that he had spent years haunting the world famous Opera Populaire as the infamous Phantom of the Opera, composing music and seducing innocent young women before going mad, crashing the chandelier and burning the theatre down. No, that hardly seemed like the proper answer at all.

"Well?" she asked.

"That is none of your concern," he muttered, "I lived and worked in France, which is all you need to know."

They were silent for a time, listening to the rain lashing against the windows and the rumbles of thunder. After a while Erik began to hum softly, the melody interlacing with the storm to form a haunting tune. Adrienne leaned her head against Alex's shoulder to listen. And then Erik stopped, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to stifle a yawn.

"You should go to bed, Monsieur Erik," Adrienne murmured.

He gave a tired smile and stood up, "yes I should, please excuse me."

"Of course," Alex said, "get some real sleep this time."

"I will try," Erik sighed.

"Have a good sleep," she smiled, "and I hope to see you again as well."

"Merci, and I hope to see you again as well, Mademoiselle," he said before giving a small bow and leaving the room.

Erik's coming and going continued until November, when the weather started to turn against his favour. The English Channel became rough, making travel more difficult and the times between his visits to England longer.

* * *

**A/N: To start off, since I am aware that the world does not know French (something I often seem to forget) I will give a quick translation down here, so:  
_"Comment ca va?" _Means (bassically) How is it going?  
_"Ca va."_ means, well, "It goes." (so Erik is just being a cryptic jerk really)  
So please leave me a review.**


	13. Stitches

Stitches

A man who doesn't trust himself can never really trust anyone else. - Cardinal de Retz

He heard the neck snap and the dull thud as the body fell to the ground. Then, with the calm of a practised killer he walked over to it and removed the noose from the neck and coiled it before returning it to his cloak.

It was frightening; even to himself at times; at how easily he took take a man's life. He looked down at the body and pushed it to the side with his foot before slicking his hair back and out of his face. He knew that he would regret it later, but for the moment he didn't care and merely left the body lying in the cold mud as he walked away. He would contact the police later and explain everything.

* * *

Adrienne leaned her head against Alex's shoulder and sighed as sleet pelted against the window, sending a shiver down her spine despite the warm fire. Alex just smiled and kissed the top of her head, pulling her a little closer. 

"I love you," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

"I know," she smiled, "I love you too."

The sound of the door opening and closing caused Alex to look up, "Hmm, that must e Erik…"

Erik didn't even acknowledge them when he entered the room, collapsing into the armchair with a heavy sigh. Alex frowned and sat up slightly, watching as Erik pulled his wet cloak around him for warmth. He looked terrible, his skin was ashen and he was soaked through.

"Bad trip?" Alex asked.

Erik pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded his head, "Mmm hmm."

"You look sick," Alex continued.

"The channel was rough," Erik murmured, "and the weather…"

"Here, have some tea," Adrienne said, already pouring him a cup, "it will help warm you up."

Erik nodded and took the cup from her, allowing the warm to radiate into his hands before taking a sip. The heat felt good, at least until the liquid hit his stomach, causing it to lurch. With a small grimace he set the cup down and turned to Alex, "Young man, could you get your father for me. I believe he will wish to talk with me immediately."

"Of course," Alex said, "he's just in his study, I'll be right back."

Erik gave a weak smile, "Merci."

Alex left the room and Erik leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at Adrienne, "How have you been, Mademoiselle? It has been a while."

"Oh I'm fine," she answered, "you look a bit worse for wear though."

"Perhaps a bit," Erik said, attempting a smile, "but I have been worse."

Silence followed that, until the heavy footfalls of the count echoed through the house. Erik's sighed and massaged his temples, "He's heard…"

"How dare you!" the count roared, "How dare you return to my house. I should throw you out this very moment!"

"Yes," Erik agreed, "most people do not want to harbour murderers."

"Why did you even bother coming back, hmm?"

"Well I could not have stayed there," Erik reasoned.

"They tell me that his neck was broken," the count growled, "how in God's name did you managed that?"

Erik dipped his hand into his cloak and pulled out the thin catgut lasso, tossing it to the count's feet, "With that…"

The count scowled down at the rope, his lip curling in disgust, "Now answer me truthfully, Erik. Was it necessary?"

"Of course it was!" Erik flared, pushing himself out of the chair and taking a step towards the count.

"Careful!" Alex exclaimed, watching as the rest of the colour drained from Erik's face. He swayed dangerously where he stood and Alex quickly moved to help steady him.

"Get off," Erik growled, shouldering him to the side as he steadied himself.

Alex frowned and moved forward, taking hold of Erik's cloak and tugging it off before he could be stopped. Adrienne quickly clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a small scream and Erik scowled down at his side, where the fabric of his shirt was stained crimson.

"My God! What happened?" Alex asked, his eyes widening.

Erik reached his hand across and grasped his side, "He attacked me, but does it really matter?"

"Of course it does," the count sighed, "you should have sent word to me, Erik. If I had known what had happened…why did he attack you?"

"I make far more enemies than I do friends," Erik muttered.

The count nodded his head grimly, "You should get that cleaned and bandaged."

"You have anything in your room?" Alex asked.

"Yes I do," Erik nodded, "now all I have to do is get up the stairs."

* * *

With some help from Alex he made it up the stairs and to his room. Once there he removed the sodden shirt and inspected the knife wound, which had been cut deep. 

"Did you stitch that yourself," Alex asked, grimacing as Erik pulled at the torn stitched.

"Yes," he grunted, tearing out the remaining few, "b-but they ripped on the channel…pass me that black box, young man."

Alex nodded, glad for a distraction as he fetched the box from the desk, "Here."

Erik dropped it on the bed and opened it, revealing various medical supplies. Alex watched as Erik picked out a brown bottle and a small cloth. He found himself transfixed with morbid curiosity as Erik poured the liquid from the bottle onto the cut, causing it to bubble and froth. Erik grimaced and wiped away the pinkish foam and some of the blood before taking out a curved needle and silk thread.

"Oh God…you aren't going to do that yourself?" Alex asked.

Erik looked up and him, "Who else would do it, young man? You, perhaps."

Alex shook his head and cast his eyes to the floor, "Just tell me when you're done."

The count entered the room just as Erik broke off the string, his hands trembling badly as cold sweat drenched his body, "How bad is the infection?"

"I'll live," Erik rasped, wiping away more of the blood, "what a shame, hmm?"

The count frowned and handed him a shirt, "You don't want to catch a chill."

Erik accepted it and slipped it on, giving a harsh laugh when Adrienne gave a small scream from the doorway, "I should charge admission."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, biting her lip as the countess stepped up beside her.

"Oh my…what happened dear?" she gasped.

"I…I was attacked, "Erik murmured, frowning slightly, "and…well, I guess you can see what…what happened."

"Monsieur?" Adrienne asked, stepping forward and placing her hand uncertainly on his cheek. With a small gasp she pulled it away again, "you're burning up!"

"I'll be fine," he mumbled.

"Come on, everyone out!" the countess said, ushering them from the room, "let's let him get a good night's sleep. Out, out!"

Erik gave a small laugh, "Merci, Madame."

"Get some sleep," she said, "we'll check on you in the morning. Good night, dear."

"G'night," Erik murmured, lying down on the bed, "buona notte…"

* * *

**A/N: I want my e-mail alerts back! Come on FF, alert me!!!!  
****Oh yeah, translation: "_Buona notte" _means_ "Good Night" _(Fear my bad italian and review!)**


	14. Fever

Fever

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. - Anais Nin

When the next morning dawned it became apparent that the infection was far worse than Erik had let on. When Alex went to see how he was before breakfast he found his friend shivering and covered in a cold sweat with his skin ablaze.

"I'll send for a doctor," Alex murmured.

"I do not need a doctor," Erik growled.

"You are very sick," Alex argued, "you have a high fever and should have a doctor check that wound."

"I will not allow any doctor near me," Erik persisted.

Alex sighed and shook his head, "Very well then…but if it gets worse I insist, whether I have to knock you out or not. I'm going to breakfast now; I'll come back and check on you afterwards."

"How is he?" the countess and Adrienne asked when Alex entered the dining room.

"He needs a doctor," Alex grumbled, slumping into his chair, "but I can't see us getting on near him without a fight."

"So he's worse then?" Adrienne asked.

Alex nodded grimly, "I'd say so."

"I'll have the cooks prepare a broth or something for him then," the countess said, quickly getting up and bustling out of the room.

"He's so stubborn!" Alex growled once she was gone, "it wouldn't kill him to try trusting somebody for once."

"How bad is he then?" the count asked, his brows knitting together.

Alex shrugged, "A high fever…someone should definitely keep an eye on his in case it gets worse. I told him that if it did then I would send for a doctor."

"We have business in London today," the count reminded him, "and we can't miss it."

Alex scowled, "I know."

"Your mother can keep an eye on him," the count said thoughtfully.

"As could I," Adrienne added, "my brothers have suffered from fevers before and I've watched them."

"I told him I'd check on him after breakfast," Alex muttered, "I'll let him know then. Just keep an eye on him and if he gets worse then have a servant send for the doctor. You can always ask my mother to watch him if you get tired."

"Alright," Adrienne murmured.

* * *

When they had finished breakfast Alex led Adrienne up to Erik's room and quietly opened the door. Hearing Erik's deep and even breathing he approached the bed carefully and leaned over slightly to look at him. 

He jumped slightly when Erik's mismatched eyes opened and focussed upon him, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," Erik said quietly, "hmm, I do not feel very well, young man."

"I have to go into London on business today," Alex told him apologetically, "but Adrienne will be here to watch over you, as will my mother."

"Adrienne," Erik repeated with a small nod of his head, "if you think I need a guard then fine."

"If you need anything just ask, and if you get worse then someone will send for a doctor-"

"Whether I like it or not," Erik finished for him, "I know."

Alex nodded and went over to Adrienne, "Remember, mother will be here if you need a break."

"I know," she murmured.

Alex gave her a quick kiss before exiting the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as he left. Once he was gone Adrienne stood for a moment, fidgeting nervously by the door.

"You may sit," Erik finally said.

"Oh," she gasped, hurrying over to the desk and taking a seat on the chair, "umm…you should try to get some sleep."

He didn't sleep for long and tossed feverishly while he did. When his eyes finally snapped open he was breathing heavily and sat up too quickly, a grimace quickly contorting his features as his hand grasped his side.

"Careful," Adrienne said.

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, pouring him a glass of water.

"No, I'm fine," he repeated, settling back slightly.

"Alright…but if you want it later then just ask," she said, "I'll be right here so-"

"I am not a child, I know that!" Erik snapped.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Adrienne murmured, "I'm sorry if I did."

"No," Erik sighed, massaging him temples, "don't be sorry, it isn't your fault. I often overreact…its no one's fault but my own."

Adrienne nodded her head uncertainly, not knowing whether she should say anything or not. She already knew that Erik's moods could be unstable, and she didn't know what he would be like while ill.

"I never meant to hurt anyone, you know?" he asked, breaking the silence, "but I always manage to do so…why is that?"

"I don't know," Adrienne admitted, wondering where he would go with his train of thought.

"Of course not," he sighed, "you know nothing of my life…I am a terrible person."

"No you aren't," she argued.

"Ah but I am," he sighed, "everyone who has ever been kind to me, ever treated me with respect or meant something to me has suffered."

"That can't be true," Adrienne said quietly, watching as tears gleamed in his eyes.

"It is," he assured her, Sasha, Giovanni, Nadir…Christine."

Adrienne could barely hear the last name, for it came out more as a sigh than anything else. She watched as a few tears escaped from beneath his lashed, and felt a pang of sympathy when she looked into his haunted eyes.

"Don't cry," she murmured, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Carefully she reached out and brushed a tear from his cheek, a frown creasing her brow when he flinched at the touch. Carefully she reached out again and pressed her hand gently to his cheek to see if the fever had gone down. It didn't seem like it had, but she couldn't be certain.

"You should try to get some sleep," she murmured.

"Sleep - those little slices of death, how I loathe them," Erik muttered.

Adrienne gave a small frown, "What do you mean, Monsieur?"

"Nightmares," he admitted a bit sheepishly, "They keep me from sleep more often than not. I do not like to sleep for fear of what I will see…what I will remember."

Adrienne gave a slow nod of her head and brushed a strand of hair from his face, pausing for a moment as her fingers brushed against the mask, "What if I promise to wake you?"

Erik frowned as her finger lingered on the mask and grabbed her wrist when she did not move it, jerking the hand away harshly. Adrienne gave a small gasped and he saw in her eyes a small spark of fear. With a small sigh he released her and turned his head away.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Do you promise?" Erik asked, his voice full of distrust as he turned to look at her again.

Adrienne nodded her head and managed a small smile, "I promise."

He seemed unsure for a moment, but exhaustion finally took over and he closed his eyes, leaning back to lie down. Adrienne waited on the edge of the bed for a moment before going back over to the desk chair.

She could honestly say that she had never met anyone like Erik before. He was so strange in many ways; a mass of contradictions. He emanated power, confidence and sensuality. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, no matter how small. But in spite of all that he seemed to be shy, balking away from even the smallest touches, appearing insecure despite all of his arrogance.

"How is he?" the countess asked, slipping into the room.

"Sleeping," Adrienne whispered.

"Poor dear," she sighed, shaking her head slightly before turning to Adrienne, "how are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, "thank you for asking."

"Well then I'll come back in a bit. Don't hesitate to ask if you need a break."

"I won't" Adrienne replied, turning back to watch Erik as the older woman left the room, then finally getting up to wander the room while he slept.

There were certainly things to look at. Different masks were laid out on the dressing table, and she inspected a few of them, noticing the slightest differences. She frowned slightly at the dark wig and glanced back towards Erik, tilting her head slightly.

She finally walked back over to the bed and brushed a damp strand of hair away from the mask, noticing that it did seem lighter and the way it seemed to recede slightly on the masked side, revealing slightly reddened skin. He shifted slightly and she held her breath, waiting to see if it could be a nightmare. When he just sighed and settled again she went back to the desk and picked up one of his many books and flipping to the first page.

* * *

**A/N: To start of...I lost the #$in' game! And onto another note...I hope you liked the chapter because it will have to last you until at least Thursday night for I must study for my stupid midterm for my even more stupid classic civ course that I hate with the very fibre of my being. That being said I would love me some reviews and my e-mail alerts back. To my reviewers: I love you all (in a plutonic way) and I would reply to your lovely reviews if you coudl get the replies...which I am assuming you cannot. Now, back to studying and then to bed! (oh yeah, guy killed in last chapter was random worker dude in case you were wondering...yessss...)**


	15. Upcoming Events

Upcoming Events

The feeling of being hurried is not usually the result of living a full life and having no time. It is on the contrary born of a vague fear that we are wasting our life. When we do not do the one thing we ought to do, we have no time for anything else- we are the busiest people in the world. - Erik Hoffer

Erik gave a small sigh as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was still pale and his side hurt, but he didn't see any reason to stay in bed and worry the others. So he had gotten dressed slowly and made up his mind to join them for breakfast. It was really the least he could do after everything.

He made his way slowly to the dining room, and once there took particular care in sitting down. Adrienne wasn't there, but the rest of them were, and he received sceptical looks from each of them.

"You should still be resting, Erik dear," the countess worried.

"I am perfect fine," Erik assured her.

"You still look quite pale," the count said, "it would do you more good to stay in bed until you are completely well again."

"I'm fine," Erik repeated, "I have always healed quickly, and I can assure you that I will not be doing any strenuous exercises over the next few days."

"Are you sure you're feeling better?" he countess asked.

"Yes," he said, glancing down at the bowl of porridge in front of him, "or I was."

"You should eat when you're unwell," the countess said, "and I won't take 'I'm not hungry' for an answer. Its good for you, and you didn't eat anything yesterday."

Erik nodded his head, "I suppose I cannot argue with that."

"I have a few events that are coming up that you should know about," the count said once they had started eating. Erik raised his eyebrow to indicate he should go on, "there will be a Christmas party held here at the estate and a small dinner party is going to be held in a week."

"And I am expected to attend these?" Erik asked distastefully.

"You are expected to attend the Christmas party," the count said, "the dinner I will leave up to you. However, I would appreciate it if you would attend both."

Erik made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, "Perhaps I will be away the day of the dinner party."

"It is your choice," the count grumbled.

"Then I will be out that day," Erik said certainly.

The count gave a small shake of his head, "You are impossible at times, you know?"

Erik gave a small smirk, "Ah, but your days are never boring."

"Indeed," the count muttered.

* * *

Alex made his way out to the stables once breakfast was finished. Erik of course hadn't stayed for the entire meal, and Alex wasn't entirely surprised to find him sitting in the stall of the grey mare. Erik looked up briefly to acknowledge his presence, then went back to stroking the animal's graceful neck. 

"Did you sleep well last night?" Alex asked, letting himself into the stall.

"For once," Erik said softly, "was your father terribly angry that I would not attend the dinner party?"

"You ask as if you care," Alex teased, then shrugged his shoulders, "but I don't think he was. You were there anyways."

"Yes, but I thought he might have said something after I left."

"Well he didn't," Alex assured him, "did you expect him to be angry?"

"I do not know what I expected," Erik answered truthfully.

"I think that he just wants you to be a bit more social," Alex told him, "he thinks that you are far to introverted and I think he wishes to cure you of it."

Erik gave a small laugh and rested his head against the mare's side, closing his eyes and listening to her steady breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. For a minute he just stayed like that, "I have been betrayed by too many to trust anyone, or to be social. I dislike the human race as a general rule, besides…I am not very good company. It is one of my many character flaws"

"This lovely lady seems to disagree," Alex pointed out, stroking the nose of the mare.

"But would you?" Erik asked quietly.

"You do not hold the most conventional conversations," Alex answered, "you speak of far off lands and things that most other people would not. However, I have been in far worse company in my life. Quite frankly I find you to be interesting."

Erik eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, "Do you wish to travel, young man?"

"Yes," he answered, "I wish I could go and see the world."

"It is not as amazing as you may think," Erik murmured, "I have spent my entire life travelling, young man. I have seen some of the forest regions of the world, but my life has not been glamorous. I have made many enemies and have many memories that I would prefer did not exists. I have never had a home or a family…you are very fortunate, Alex, and I bid that you do not forget that."

Alex nodded his head solemnly, realizing just how little he really knew about Erik. It seemed as if you could talk with him for hours and still only just scratch the surface of the enigmatic man, "I suppose I do forget from time to time…"

"Most people do," Erik said, "they take what they have for granted. Very rarely do you truly see what you have had until you lose it. I do not wish that for you, young man, love is a very difficult thing to obtain, and one should always cherish it deeply. You only get one chance at it, after all."

Alex gave him a questioning look, "I'm not sure I follow…"

"You claim to be in love with Adrienne, no?"

"Very much so," Alex agreed.

"Then perhaps it is time you ask for her hand," Erik suggested, "You are seeing her tonight, are you not?"

"Well yes…but I do not have a ring, and my father will disapprove," Alex stammered.

"A ring will be no trouble," Erik assured him, "I have many jewels hidden away. I have never had any uses for them after all. As for your father…well, there is not much he can do if you are already engaged. Besides, if all else fails you can elope."

"You are quite mad," Alex said as he stood.

"That I am," Erika greed.

Alex rolled his eyes, "Well then, I suppose it could not hurt to look at those jewels, hmm?"

Erik allowed a pleased smile to brighten his features, "Very well then…hmm, perhaps you could offer me a hand, young man?"

Alex gave a small laugh and helped Erik to his feet, giving him a concerned look at the small grunt of pain. Erik shrugged off his concern however and led the way back to the house, Alex following closely behind.

* * *

**A/N: ;A; Oh...my...god. Oh my god! I am filled with so much hate for classic civ that it-it's overwhelming...and a bit confusing...but I did get through the midterm and I think I passed it. I mean it's a bit of a blur, but I at least wrote stuff down for all but one question...but I really hate Greek names now. They all end in "clese" or mave these weird vowel combinations... On a brighter note my e-mail alerts seem to be working! As old reviews are slowly starting to filter in. So please leave me a review and I will reply to it (unless you really don't want that, in which case tell me)!**


	16. Engagement

Engagement

A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person. - Mignon McLaughlin

The count raised his eyebrow at Erik's strange mood. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but the man had a strange glint in his eye and kept a look of almost smug contentment on his face.

"You seem chipper tonight," he grumbled, "I must say I almost prefer your dark mood to this."

"Oh?" he raised his brow.

"Yes, it is rather annoying," the count muttered.

"Is there something you would like to tell us, dear?" the countess asked.

"Were you aware that the human head can retain consciousness for up to thirty seconds after it is severed from the body?" Erik asked.

"Well…that is quite interesting, Erik dear," the countess said with an uncertain laugh, "Eat your dinner."

He picked away at his food with a small shrug. Sometimes it was amusing to shock others with his morbid knowledge.

After dinner he joined the count and countess in the parlour, choosing to read instead of actually attempting to join into their conversation. After all he knew nothing of what or whom they spoke about, so there really was no point. Still, every now and again the count would ask his opinion on some matter, to which he would reply with a shrug or an unintelligible noise.

"Good book?" he finally asked.

"Decent," Erik answered.

"You know that you don't have to stay here?" he went on.

"I have every intention of staying right where I am for the moment," Erik replied, "I am comfortable enough and I was going to stay up until your son returned anyways."

"That might be a while yet," the countess said.

"Well the night is still young, Madame, I can wait," he answered.

And so he did, flipping through the book until it bored him, and then rising to find another one. As he stood the sound of the door opening caught his attention, and then the sound of hurried footsteps. After a moment Alex and Adrienne appeared in the doorway, both smiling widely.

Erik allowed a small smile of his own when he saw the glint on Adrienne's finger, "Ah, so it went well."

Before he knew what was happening Adrienne rushed over to him and captured him in a tight embrace. He managed to suppress to urge to throw her off and she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He turned away then, as pain seared up his side," Ah, my stitches!"

She jumped back as if he had burned her, "Oh I'm terribly sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Erik clutched his side and managed a slight grin, "No, it's just a flesh wound…I'll be fine."

"Alex, what is the meaning of all this?" the count demanded.

Alex took a deep breath and tried to suppress his grin, "I asked Adrienne to marry me and she has agreed…we are to be married in the spring!"

There was a moment of tense silence which followed, in which the count's face contorted into a scowl, "I will not allow this!"

"Please, dear," he countess said soothingly, "if we just talk this out-"

"No!" he growled, "I will not-"

"And how do you intend to stop it?" Erik interrupted, "will you disinherit your only son? In my opinion, though I doubt it will be credited, Adrienne is a fine young woman, and more than respectable. I cannot see why you would not want your son to marry her."

"You…you had something to do with this, didn't you?" the count hissed.

"Well, I think I will retire for the night," Erik said, "but the stairs do seem a bit daunting at the moment. Perhaps I could ask for some assistance, young man?"

Alex nodded his head and gave a nervous smile, "Yes of course. Adrienne, why don't you come as well?"

Erik made a small show of holding his side and hunching over slightly as they left the parlour. Once out of sight, however, he straightened again and led the way up to his room with only the assistance of the railing. Once inside he turned up the lights and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"He seemed angry," Adrienne said quietly.

"Yes well, I knew that he wouldn't be happy," Alex admitted, "still, that was a bit more than I expected."

"I am certain that after sleeping on it he will come around," Erik shrugged, "or he will at least be a bit less opposed to it."

"Maybe," Alex sighed.

"Well what is the worst that could happen?" Erik asked.

"He could disinherit me," Alex replied, "leaving me without a home or any money to my name-"

"And him without an heir," Erik pointed out, "he will not disinherit you…when did you say the ceremony would be?"

"Spring," he answered, "May to be more precise."

"You will come, won't you?" Adrienne asked.

Erik gave a small sigh and shook his head, "I will no longer be in England come May. I intend to leave before the New Year, actually."

"What?" Alex blurted out, "that soon?"

"I grow tired of this country," Erik said, "I have never been able to stay in once place for very long, it is simply against my nature. I'm a bit nomadic you see? Besides, weddings make me cry."

"Where will you be going?" Adrienne asked.

"I haven't decided yet," he murmured, "though I have been thinking about Rome…I like Rome."

"Fond memories?" Alex asked.

A strange look crossed his eyes then, and for a moment he seemed to be close to tears, but it was always so difficult to tell. His mismatched eyes often seemed to be everlasting pools of emotions, constantly changing and easy to get lost in if you looked too deeply.

He didn't answer for a long time, and when he did his voice sounded distant, "No…but that is a lie. Every place holds fond memories…if only they would last."

"Monsieur?" Adrienne asked.

"I apologize, you should not allow my melancholy to bring you down," he said, offering a small smile, "My dismal life is not the topic of the night after all. We should celebrate."

"With what?" Alex chuckled, "do you have champagne hidden in this room somewhere?"

"Unfortunately I do not," Erik said, giving a light chuckle himself, "but if wine will suffice, then I can help you."

Alex gave him a look of disbelief as Erik rummaged through some of his belongings to pull out a bottle of wine, "I am honestly amazed."

Erik merely shrugged as he opened the wine and managed to produce three glasses. He poured them each one and then raised his slightly, "To your engagement."

Alex laughed and he and Adrienne clinked their glasses against Erik's before they all took a sip. Alex then gave a small laugh, "Why do you have a bottle of wine in your room?"

Erik gave a small shrug and finished his glass, "Merely one of my belongings…"

"You look tired, Monsieur," Adrienne said, concern barely masked in her voice.

"Perhaps a bit," Erik admitted.

"Then we will let you sleep," Alex said, "I must be getting Adrienne home at any rate."

"Good night then," Erik said, "and congratulations."

"Good night, Monsieur," Adrienne said, "sleep well."

"Merci," he murmured.

"I'll see you in the morning," Alex said, closing the door as he left.

Erik allowed a heavy sigh to escape his lungs once they were gone, and admitted to himself that one more day in bed would have been beneficial. He touched his fingers to his cheek and frowned at how warm his skin still felt. Then, with a slight groan he laid back and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Well, the update took longer then I expected. Fear my laziness and unoriginal chapter title! Yeah...hopefully I'll update soon but...well, my name is Stephanie (zomg you know my real name! D8) and I'm a gamer...that just got a new game. O.o so I can make no promises!**


	17. Sunday

Sunday

A religious man is a person who holds God and man in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair. - Abraham Joshua Heschel

Erik cracked his eye open and stared blearily at the window, trying to figure out whether or not he had truly heard a knock at the door. The window was still dark and there was not another sound so he decided that he must have imagined it. With a small sigh he closed his eyes again, allowing sleep to reclaim him.

"Wake up!" the count barked, pulling Erik from sleep again. He gave a low groan and tried to ignore it when a pillow collided with the back of his head, "do you know what day it is?"

"Sunday," Erik grumbled, "do you know what time it is?"

The count ignored the question, "And what happens on Sundays?"

"Apparently men are rudely awoken before the sun rises," Erik muttered.

"Church," the count corrected him, "get up."

Erik let out a low groan and picked his mask up off of the bedside table. Another groan and he slipped it on before sitting up and turning to face the count, "Church? If you will recall I informed you that I am an atheist, therefore I have no reason to attend."

"Up," the count said, "you are going with us."

Erik sighed and shoved off the covers, "Very well."

"And try not to wear so much black," the count criticized, "it is church service after all, not a funeral."

"How would one know the difference?" Erik grumbled, plucking a green waistcoat from the back of a chair.

* * *

Ten minutes passed before Erik made his way into the front hall, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket as the count tapped his foot impatiently. Erik didn't seem to notice this as he dawned his cloak and then carefully pulled on his gloves.

"I thought I told you to wear less black," the count grumbled.

Erik raised his eyebrow, "Did you not notice the green waistcoat?"

The count just rolled his eyes, "Let's just get into the carriage, otherwise we will be late."

"You're coming?" Alex asked, trying hard to hide a smile.

"Indeed," Erik muttered, rubbing his eyes.

They were all ushered out to the carriage by the count and Erik fund himself being folded into the small space, Alex cramming himself in beside him with the countess opposite. It intruded severely on his person space and he found that he could not help a scowl as the carriage jerked forward.

Erik stared out the small window as the country zipped past. The sky was beginning to gain a pinkish tint and the rhythmic hoof beats began to lull Erik into a half wakeful state. He gently touched his gloved fingers to the cold glass and let out a small sigh.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" the countess asked.

Erik didn't answer, just pulled his fingers away from the glass and crossed his arms over his chest. He wondered why he had actually agreed to go with them; it would have been so easy, after all, to just claim that he was not feeling well. But somehow it hadn't seemed like a battle worth fighting.

"Well?" the count asked.

"Fine," Erik said tonelessly, turning an unfocussed gaze on the count briefly, "will we be there soon?"

"We will arrive when we arrive," he replied, "just be patient for once."

"It was just a question," Erik pointed out, "a curiosity…besides it is difficult to be patient at such a wretched hour."

* * *

It took nearly twenty minutes to get from the estate to the church, which was nested just outside of a small town. When the carriage did finally jerk to a stop Erik had to restrain himself from pushing out first, waiting while the others exited before finally getting out.

"This is it?" he asked, distain evident in his voice.

"What did you expect?" the count asked.

Erik observed the small stone church, with its unassuming stature and small cross adorned steeple. It was certainly not what he had expected, "Something…different."

"You find it unimpressive," Alex stated.

"After travelling as I have you get used to certain things. I have seen the greatest cathedrals in the world, the most recent being Notre Dame de Paris," Erik pointed out.

"I thought you didn't attend church," Alex noted.

"Ah, not for the worship," Erik corrected, "I often visited them for their architecture. There are some truly beautifully built cathedrals in the world."

"Enough chit chat," the countess scolded, "let's go inside, it is cold out here. And we want good seats, don't we?"

"No," Erik blurted out.

"Just come," the count grumbled, beckoning them forward.

Alex gave a small laugh and followed his parents towards the door, turning back when Erik stayed where he was, "If you stay out here you will freeze to death."

"Then hell will be welcome," Erik retorted, following the younger man.

"Watch you-great! Now you have me sounding like my father."

Erik gave him a devilish smile and followed him to where the count and countess were waiting beside one of the pews near the front. Erik frowned as he slid in beside Alex and the countess boxed him in on his right side.

The countess watched as he shifted uncomfortably, looking over his shoulder as the church began to fill up. The more people that entered the more agitated he became, eventually picking up a bible to distract himself. He started to flip through the pages, drumming his fingers against the cover as he did so.

"Stop that," the count finally hissed, "the service is starting."

Erik closed the bible almost guiltily and set it down before fixing his gaze on his hands with a muttered apology. The count just rolled his eyes as the pastor began.

* * *

"Now was that as bad as you thought it would be?" the countess asked once the service was over.

"Worse," Erik said through gritted teeth. It has always bothered him that all sermons, no matter what the subject, always seemed to be directed at him. But then again wasn't that the point of a sermon?

"You are just closed minded," the count said.

"I am I really?" Erik snapped back, "Are we finished here?"

"One moment," the countess said, "I would like to speak with Pastor Bathurst for a moment, come along, Erik, I should introduce you."

Erik suppressed a growl and followed her over to elderly man with the bright white hair and the weathered but friendly face. He even almost managed a smile, though he guessed that it would have appeared more of a grimace to the elderly man.

"Pastor Bathurst, I would like you to meet Erik," the countess said cheerfully, "I told you about him before."

"Ah, the architect, correct?" he chortled, "a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Indeed," Erik ground out.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to come. Did you enjoy the service?"

"Not particularly," Erik answered, "I'm afraid I am not a religious man."

"Well, that is a shame," the priest side.

"I don't think so, but we are all entitled to our own opinions."

"Mother," Alex interrupted, flashing a quick smile at the pastor, "Perhaps we should be on our way. Erik is looking a bit pale, he might still be a bit sick."

"I am fine, young man, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak as If I am not here," Erik snapped.

Alex suppressed a groan, wondering why Erik would choose to make things more difficult for himself. But then again it was Erik, which was an explanation in itself.

"Are you certain?" the countess asked, "you do look a bit tired."

"That is because I was dragged from my bed before sun up in order to come here," Erik explained, "I can assure you, Madame, that I am not feeling ill and that I will not be dropping dead any time soon."

"Perhaps we should be on out way, anyways," the countess said, "I will see you next week, Pastor Bathurst."

"Of course," he smiled, "and will I be seeing you again any time soon, Erik?"

"No," he answered shortly, "when I told you that I was not a religious man I meant it. In fact, more often than not, I despise the very thought of a god. And so I bid you adieu."

Alex watched as his father bore down on Erik, face red with anger and embarrassment, though it didn't appear to be fazing Erik at all. Several members of the congregation were staring, however, and the countess quickly quieted her husband.

"Some on, let's just go," she said, "perhaps this wasn't a very good idea after all."

"I could not agree more," Erik muttered, raising an eyebrow as two of the younger women of the congregation walked past him, giggling and casting him sideways glances.

"Come on now," the countess said, "let's just get into the carriage."

"He will not be riding in the carriage," the count stated, "he can walk home after that show. It will give him some time to think about what he said and contemplate how to talk properly to others."

"Father, you cannot be serious," Alex objected, "it's a long walk, and it's freezing out."

"I care not," Erik shrugged, "the exercise will not do m easy harm. Besides, I do not believe I wish to be crammed into a carriage again. I will see you back at the estate."

Before there could be any more objections Erik turned on his heel and began walking away.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the slow updating, I was going to do it sooner, but I've just been feeling kinda bummed this week, a little bit left of centre, so to say. Anyways, it means I haven't really gotten much done. But here is an update, so I hope you enjoy it. Leave me a review please and thanks...mmm, bedtime...**


	18. Friendship

**Friendship**

_Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength. - Hasidic Saying_

The night of the dinner party seemed to come too quickly for Erik, and he found himself preparing to leave only minutes before the guests were supposed to arrive. It seemed that they were to be friends who had been away from England for a while. It always amazed Erik at the number of supposed friends the count had.

"You're going out then?" the countess asked.

"Mmm," Erik answered, pressing his fingers into his eyes, "That was the plan."

"Headache?" she asked, clucking her tongue, "You are always ill, you should consider staying in tonight. Or perhaps you should simply try sleeping? I know that you are up until all hours of the night, and the maids say that your bed is hardly ever slept in."

"I am fine, Madame," he sighed, tugging on his gloves, "just a bit tired, you needn't worry. It is my own poor health, after all, and it does not bother me."

"You will catch your death if you go out tonight though, it has been cold and sleeting all day," she sighed, "oh dear, and now the guests are here. Richard, Alex!"

The two appeared in the hall just as there was a knock on the door. A maid immediately hurried to open it, bowing out of the way as the family entered. Erik couldn't help a small sigh; it seemed that he wouldn't be able to avoid greeting anymore.

"Oh, it is so good to see you again, Susan!" the countess exclaimed, hurrying forward to hug the sandy-haired woman, "how have you been?"

"Well," she answered, "and you?"

"Oh, wonderful," she answered cheerfully before turning to a young man, "and how are you, Michael?" Goodness, it has been a while, just look at how you've grown. How old are you now?"

"Fifteen," he replied, "and it is a pleasure to see you again, Madam."

"It is good to see you again, Christopher," the count said, shaking the hand of the steely-haired man, "I can see your family is well."

"Quite," the man chortled, "and yours? Alexandre, you look well."

"I am, thank you, Sir," he smiled, "it is good to see you again."

"Yes, yes…oh, and who might this gentleman be?" he asked, turning his gaze to Erik.

"Christopher, I would like you to meet Erik," the count answered, "He is currently employed for me as an architect."

"A pleasure, Monsieur," Erik said with a small bow, "you have a lovely family."

"Why thank you," he laughed.

"Unfortunately Erik will not be joining us for dinner," the countess said.

"You aren't planning on going out, are you?" Susan asked concernedly, "it is so cold out, and with the sleet and snow you would surely catch cold."

"I told him the same thing, Susan," the countess sighed, "but he is a stubborn man and insists on going out."

"I tell you, if that man gets something in his head he will not rest until he accomplishes his goal," the count laughed, "all you can do is wish him the best."

"Yes well, if you do not mind I was just on my way," Erik said, stepping towards the door, "I hope you all have a pleasant visit."

"Well, at least try to stay warm and dry," the countess sighed, "and don't go too far."

"I would never dream of it," Erik murmured, opening the door and pausing on the threshold. For a moment he ground his teeth as he looked out and the sleet, snow and blowing wind, "merde! Le monde me déteste."

"It just might," Alex laughed, "so perhaps now you will reconsider going out?"

"Well I can't very well go out in that," Erik spat.

"Perhaps you could go up to your room for a bit then?" the countess suggested, "You do look a bit tired anyways."

Erik gave a shrug of distaste, "It is either that or grace you all with my presence, something I am sure you would not appreciate. And so I shall be in my room, have a pleasant meal."

"Bad day?" Susan asked once he was gone.

"Bad mood," Alex corrected, "they come and go, so he may be down later if it passes. He can actually be quite charming, believe it or not."

"Yes, if it weren't for the mood swings," the count grumbled, "I apologize, he isn't always so disagreeable, but lately he has been under the weather."

* * *

Erik gave a small sigh and ran his hands through his hair; he knew that it wasn't right to behave too rudely. Glancing over at his bed he glared, knowing that it was lack of sleep that was making him irritable, and yet sleep still seemed to elude him. Whether it was nightmares, vivid dreams or merely insomnia he had not been able to obtain more than a few hours of sleep over the past few days. 

He waited until he figured the meal to be over before heading down, making sure to smooth back his hair before entering the parlour. The boy, Michael, turned to look at him and Alex gave a small smirk, "Well would you look who has decided to join us? We were just wondering if you would come down."

Erik gave a small smile, more a twitch of his lips, "Well, I thought that I might join you, if for no other reason then to apologise for-"

"You complete and utter disrespect for our guests?" the count interrupted.

"Well, I was going to word it more eloquently, but I believe that you have summed up what I meant to say," Erik said with a light chuckle, "I do apologise, I'm afraid I allowed my temper to get the better of me."

"That was quite thoughtful of you," the countess smiled, "now why don't you come and sit down for a little visit? And try not to be so shy, dear. Oh, Susan, he really is a nice young man if you get to know him."

Erik bit back a sharp response and sat down in the armchair. It always bothered him that the countess spoke to him as if he were either very simple or a young child, and the way that she always referred to him as a 'nice young man,' to others. If only she knew just how 'nice' he had been, inventing torture chambers and horrible deaths.

"Dear," he repeated with a small laugh, "how entirely inappropriate."

"Nonsense!" the countess argued, reaching out to pat his hand. When he pulled it away she shook her head, "oh, but too shy."

Erik ground his teeth together and forced a small smile, if only she knew why he was so 'shy.' The map work of scars on his back could tell the story, and after that, years of being spurned by people he had believed he could trust. Things such as that were not easily erased.

"Erik?" the countess asked, drawing from his dark thoughts.

"Hmmm?" he asked, turning his eyes towards her.

"Thinking again?" Alex teased.

"He is very pensive," the countess laughed, "always something going on up there, hmm?"

"Well, there are not enough men like him, then," Susan laughed.

"I could argue that," Erik said lightly, "young Monsieur Beaumont, for example. The young man seems to do a fair amount of thinking, though what of I have yet to discover."

"Amusing," Alex said hollowly, "I can assure you that he is far more sarcastic than pensive."

"Am I?" Erik asked, "I hadn't noticed."

"You seem like the sort of person who is difficult to get along with," Christopher commented.

"I have been told that," Erik agreed, "Madame Giry used to tell me that all the time, in fact. She quite despised me at time, I think."

"Ah yes," Richard chortled, "tell me, Erik, how is it that you know her? I mean, her husband Jules and I were old friends, but I do not believe she ever told me how she knew you."

"Ah, it is a rather complicated relationship, actually," Erik mused, "You see, I met her upon my return from Persia, a time when I was in rather poor health. Madame Giry was kind to me then, though why I still do not know. Anyways, she helped me and, well…I suppose you could call our relationship a friendship. Either way, she was always kind to me and because of that kindness I find myself here in England."

When he thought back on it the entire story seemed somewhat amusing, in an ironic way. After all, if it hadn't been for her one act of kindness - that one moment of pity - he never would have come to the Opera Populaire. And then, even after all that had occurred, after ten years of his reign over the theatre and its terrible end, she had still sought him out afterwards and helped him put his life back together as best she could. Yes, thinking back on it all he had to admit that she was a truly remarkable woman, and he should have thanked her more often for all of her kindness.

* * *

**A/N: ...Ooh, an update...yessss. Please leave me a review, and for those of you wondering, Erik will get himself up to some working soon. Gotta go back and ensure everything is going fine over in France, you know?**


	19. Innocence

Innocence

Nothing you do for children is ever wasted. They seem not to notice us, hovering, averting our eyes, and they seldom offer thanks, but what we do for them is never wasted.

"Madame Giry?" Christopher asked, "Does she have a daughter by any chance? A…oh what was it?"

"Meg," Michael interjected.

"Yes she does," Erik nodded, "she is an amazing dancer."

"Indeed, we saw her perform just the other day," Christopher agreed, "our boy was quite taken with her."

"Father," his son groaned.

"Where did you see this performance?" Erik asked. Despite Madame Giry's assistance after the fire she had truthfully told him very little of her life. It was for the best, he knew, for he was aware that Christine would have most likely been staying with them then, and it was best for all if they remained apart.

"The Comédie-Française," Susan said, "it was a delightful ballet."

"I still have the program," Michael said with a slight blush, "if you would like to see it?"

"Thank you," Erik said, accepting it from the boy, "the Comédie-Française? That is a decent theatre."

"Did you go to the theatre often while you lived in France, Erik?" the countess asked.

Erik gave a small laugh as he scanned the programme, "I lived at the opera."

"Do you recognize any names?" Alex asked.

Erik frowned, "A few…ah, little Giry had a duet?"

"Yes," Michael smiled, "it was beautiful."

"I am sure," Erik muttered, eyes darkening when he reached the end of the list of names. He had thought that perhaps, if Meg was dancing there, that Christine would also be at the Comédie-Française, and scolded himself for believing something so foolish. After all, the soon-to-be bride of a vicomte could not be a chorus girl.

"Something the matter?" Alex asked.

"Not at all," he replied curtly, throwing the programme onto the table with distaste.

"Oh my," Susan gasped, "is that the time? I didn't know that it was so late, Michael, you should be getting off to bed."

"Mother," he groaned, "it isn't that late."

"Listen to your mother, Michael," Christopher warned.

He gave a dejected sigh, "Yes, father…"

"I can summon a maid to show you to the guest room we've prepared," the countess offered.

"If it's the same as last time I can mange," he answered politely.

"Well then?" Christopher asked, motioning towards the door.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Fine…good night, everyone."

He got up and started to shuffle out when his mother called him back, "No proper goodnight?" she asked, "come here, Michael."

"Mother," he sighed, "I'm not a child anymore."

"Just come here," she insisted, taking hold of his hand and pulling him closer. He rolled his eyes and turned away as she kissed his cheek, "good night."

"Good night," he repeated, wiping the lipstick from his cheek while muttering under his breath.

Once he was gone Susan just smiled, "He's at that age, I suppose."

"Oh, but he is a good boy," the countess said kindly, "and terribly handsome. He will grow into a fine man someday."

"He will at that," the count agreed, "he is a fine young man right now, wouldn't you agree, Erik?"

"I think that he is a selfish, ungrateful brat!" Erik snapped, pushing himself out of his chair and sweeping from the room.

"Erik!" the count exclaimed.

"Where are you going, dear?" the countess called.

"Bed!" he bellowed from the hall.

The count snorted and turned to Alex, "Go find out what has him so bothered this time. And then bring him back to apologise to our guests."

"Father, I don't think that would be the best thing to do," Alex reasoned.

"Just do it," the count snapped, "He will not insult our friends in such a manner."

Alex bit his tongue to keep him self from objecting again, the last thing he needed was to have his father angry at both him and Erik. Still, he didn't see any point in going after him and then dragging the man back to the parlour against his will. It seemed like a good way to get himself killed.

"I will go," the countess said when Alex made a move to get up.

Erik flung the windows open as her entered the room, tugging at his cravat to loosen it as the cold air slapped his face. He tried to quell his temper, taking deep breaths as he leaned against the desk.

"Erik?" the countess asked, causing him to turn his head sharply to look at her.

"If you would, Madame, I would like you to leave," he ground out.

"I would like you to return to the parlour with me," she said calmly.

"No."

She gave a small sigh, "I can understand-"

"What?" he interrupted, "you can understand, what, Madame? I can answer that for you; nothing. You understand nothing!"

"There is no need to take that tone with me. Now, I have asked you politely to return to the parlour with me, it is time we returned. Now come."

"I said no, now get out," Erik growled, pointing towards the door.

"No," she replied simply, "not until you come with me."

"I said get out!" he shouted, taking the ewer from the night table and throwing it at the wall.

It had barely shattered when he felt the blow to his naked cheek. He blinked in confusion as the stinging sensation spread across his cheek and looked up to see the countess, with her hand still raised slightly, looking at him with cool determination.

"I will not allow such appalling behaviour in my household, is that understood?" she snapped, "now sit down and tell me what has put you in such a terrible mood. I daresay that I thought you were finished with these childlike rages."

"Then I guess you were mistaken," he murmured, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Do not give me that," she scolded, "that sharp tongue of yours will get you no where now. An explanation, however, might help."

"I am just tired," he muttered, "my temper is worse when I have not been sleeping…simple things - idiotic things - anger me easily."

"I see," she said, "then I will allow you to rest and we will talk about this in the morning."

"If you wish," Erik replied.

"Sleep well then," she said.

He waited until she was gone before putting his face in his hands with a low groan, "Doubtful."

"What is?" the countess asked, allowing a soft smile to grave her lips when his head shot up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"I just came back to say goodnight," she told him.

"You already did so," Erik said brusquely.

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch. What a strange man he was. She had seen it in his eyes when Susan had kissed her son goodnight, a strange mix of contempt, jealousy and longing. With a small sigh she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, "Yes, well…good night, dear."

She left then, and he lay back on the bed with a shuddering sigh, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to keep the tears at bay. That stupid little boy, turning away from his mother's kiss…he had no idea just how lucky he was.

* * *

The countess shook her head sadly as she closed the door. There was a strange innocence about him, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was that a single act of kindness either confused him or brought him to tears. Whatever it was she did not dwell on it and returned to the parlour with a smile. 

"Where is he?" her husband asked as she sat down.

"He's not well," she answered, "I thought it best that he get some sleep. He apologises though, for what he said.

"He had better," the count grumbled, "honestly, if it weren't for Antoinette's request that he stay here I would have sent him away ages ago."

"Father, don't be cruel," Alex frowned.

The count shook his head, "Well, perhaps not…but he can be terribly trying at times."

"So it would seem," Christopher laughed.

"But he really is a fine man," the count admitted, "but do not tell him that I said that. I tell you, he is bloody intelligent. A genius even. Yes, I think he could go quite far if it weren't for that temper and his wariness of others…ah, but it is getting late, I suppose we should all be off to bed."

"Indeed," Alex sighed, "good night everyone."

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, I so live in the wrong place! I cannot stand extreme heat or cold, and at the moment it is hot here! Well okay, not "hot" persay, but too hot for me. About 26 celcius, but we never really got the in between weather this year to build me up to the summer heat, so it seems hot. But enough of my complaints. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and I will try to update soon, however I have a seminar to present next week and will have to do researching for it...though I know that my group will totally pwn it! We make the ecclectic nature of Roman religion exciting! Ahem...yes, please leave a review.**


	20. History

History

Acceptance is not a state of passivity or inaction. I am not saying you can't change the world, right wrongs, or replace evil with good. Acceptance is, in fact, the first step to successful action. If you don't fully accept a situation precisely the way it is, you will have difficulty changing it. Moreover, if you don't fully accept the situation, you will never really know if the situation should be changed. - Peter McWilliams,

Erik could tell upon his arrival in France that he would not have another opportunity to visit the site after this. The weather was turning, small white flakes were being blown around as he walked through the streets, and the English Channel had been sickeningly rough on the way over. And so he visited the build site, ignoring the wary gazes from the workers as he inspected it.

"We'll have to stop soon," the foreman shivered, "its getting too cold, and the weather's making conditions dangerous."

"Of course," Erik murmured, "I hadn't expected the work to last this long, it seems the weather has been favourable."

"Y-yes," the man answered.

"Finish anything that must be completed and then the workers can have time off until the weather improves."

"Of course, sir," he said, "the first signs of good weather and we'll be on the job again."

"I would expect nothing else," Erik said, "I will most likely be gone by then…but trust you to finish the work. It is not complicated after all. Good day, Monsieur, I have a meeting to attend now."

"You won't be returning?" the man asked, his eyes widening in shock, "Surely you'll return at least one more time!"

Erik gave a slight shrug, "Perhaps."

The man gave a nervous smile and nodded his head, "Well, I shouldn't keep you from your meeting. Good day, Sir, and au revoir."

Erik gave a nod of his head, "Adieu, Monsieur."

* * *

Erik gave a small, mirthless laugh as he approached the little café of the corner. A man passing gave him a curious look and Erik brushed it aside, offering a smirk to Madame Giry when she stood to greet him. 

"What a lovely little café," he said, was there no room inside, Madame?"

"I thought it best I waited outside so that you could find me," she replied curtly, "how have you been, Monsieur?"

"Fine," he answered, "and you?"

"I have been also been well. Though a bit of news not long ago troubled me," she said pointedly.

Erik ignored her statement and motioned to the door of the café, "Shall we go inside?"

"You and I both know that we did not meet to talk over coffee. Why are you really here, Monsieur?"

"I have come to repay you for your kindness, Madame," he answered, "after all, without you I would not have my job in England, nor would I be alive today."

"You owe me nothing, Monsieur," she answered.

Erik gave a small snort and held out a small, leather purse, "Take it, Madame. You know very well that I owe you everything."

She pushed the purse away, "Keep your money, Monsieur, I want no part of it."

"It was earned legally, if that is your concern," he spat, "this is not blood money, Madame, and it is not stolen."

She shook her head and sighed, "I cannot trust you when you say that. Go back to England, Monsieur."

Erik scowled, "How is your daughter, Madame? I hear that she has taken a job at the Comédie-Française."

Her eyes widened in surprise, "She-she is well. How did you know?"

"I heard it through friends of my employer, Madame, so you needn't worry. I read the programme, a duet hmmm? I always thought that she was a talented young woman."

"She is indeed…"

"I noticed that Mademoiselle Daae was not in the programme," he added nonchalantly, "has she given up the stage?"

"I should be going, Monsieur," she said hurriedly.

"Of course, Madame Giry," he agreed, turning the purse over in his hands.

"Au revoir, Monsieur," she said, "I hope that England continues to treat you well."

He gave a small laugh, "Why did you send me to England, Madame?"

"Because I knew that Monsieur Beaumont was in search of a good architect and I thought the work would do you well."

"You are a good liar, Madame," he smirked.

She sighed and shook her head, "I thought that it would do you some good to spend time with them."

He nodded his head, "I see…and has it?"

"It would seem so," she said, "now, au revoir, I have to get home. Tell me when you will be in France again, and I will speak with you then."

"If I return to France I will do that," he said, pocketing the purse and turning to leave, "au revoir, Madame Giry.

He left the small café then and made his way back to the small inn that he was staying at. He didn't feel like starting the trip back to England that day, it was getting too late for that anyways. Besides, the prospect of crossing the channel again made his stomach turn.

That Madame Giry hadn't taken the money angered him slightly, for he knew that she certainly deserved at least that from him. But she had never been one to accept anything but thanks from him. He had tried to give her presents before to repay her, but she always turned them down for one reason or another, and it always frustrated him. He would try again though, he promised himself that. If he made it to France again he would certainly attempt to repay her yet again, even if he had to force the money upon her. And if he didn't then he would mail it to her with no way to return it.

* * *

**A/N: Well, the seminar went well, in fact my group kicked that presentation's butt! Now all I have to do is worry about memorizing my monologue from King Lear, writing a Hamlet essay and starting on my Literature summative...soooo, updates might be sparse for a while...but it's all good. There is no stress here at all, nope! No stress at all, the massive pile of things to do is completely stress-free...please leave me a review.**


	21. Tradition

Tradition

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth. - Benjamin Disraeli

Sunlight was streaming in through the window, warming the room, and Erik sat enjoying the warm rays in one of the arm chairs of the parlour. Alex laughed at him as he entered the room with Adrienne at his side.

"You look comfortable," he commented, sitting down on the sofa with Adrienne, "it's Christmas Eve, you know?"

"Mmm hmmm," Erik replied lazily. The count had informed him of the exact same thing earlier, most likely hoping to elicit a response other then 'how nice.'

"You really don't care," Alex laughed.

"Not in the least," Erik yawned.

"Did your trip go well?" Adrienne asked, "I haven't seen you since you went to France."

"Decently," Erik answered with a sigh, "things that needed to be done were dealt with."

"That's good," she murmured, leaning her head against Alex's shoulder.

"So this is where you've all been hiding?" the count asked, looking around the room, "do you all truly have nothing better to do?"

"I cannot think of anything," Erik replied silkily.

"Neither can I," Alex agreed, "nothing at all…"

"I see," the count rolled his eyes; "I actually came to speak to you, Erik."

"What is it?" he asked, cracking his eyes open to look at him.

"As I told you earlier, it is Christmas eve."

"Very kind of you to reiterate that."

"Indeed. Well, we have a tradition in this family, that every Christmas eve we attend a midnight mass at our church," he explained.

"I hope you have a pleasant time," Erik said.

"I would like you to attend as well," the count said, frowning slightly, "it is family tradition after all, and since you are living in this house I think it would be appropriate."

Erik tilted his head to the side, "I shall consider your offer."

"Well I…" the count trailed off and eyed Erik curiously, "you said that you would consider?"

"I did," Erik replied.

"Well…thank you. I will leave you all to your…whatever it is you are doing," he said, "good afternoon."

Alex watched his father leave before turning to Erik, "You're coming?"

"I said I would consider it," Erik corrected, "I figured it would be best not to start an argument…I am not going."

Alex gave a quiet laugh as Erik closed his eyes again, "I think I like this new mood of yours. It is an improvement on your usual one."

"And how would you describe my usual mood, young man?"

"Dark and brooding with the occasional temper flare."

"In other words: moody," Adrienne chimed in.

"That is good to know," Erik muttered, "so, you really go to this midnight service each year, hmm?"

"Yes, a long cramped carriage ride in the frigid dark there, and another one back after an hour long service. It really is fun, you should join us."

"You make it sound so inviting," Erik replied sardonically.

"Oh it really is beautiful," Adrienne insisted, "there are so many candles and they play all the Christmas hymns, you would enjoy it."

"Perhaps," Erik shrugged, "but I think I will take my chances in missing it."

"Didn't you ever go to Christmas Eve mass as a child?" Adrienne asked.

"No," Erik answered quietly, "I'm afraid I stayed home while my mother went out…"

"Oh…because of-of the mask?" she asked tentatively, "why do you wear it, Monsieur?"

Every line of Erik's body seemed to harden at the question, but he didn't shout or storm from the room. He simply raised his head slowly and considered Adrienne for a moment. There was something searching in his gaze, as if he wanted to know her exact reason for asking that question.

"Because it is tradition," he answered at length, "I have worn it since the day I was born."

"But there must be a reason," she persisted, "maybe you could-"

"You are a little prying Pandora, aren't you?" he interrupted, "let it alone, I would rather not explain it…it is not something I care to discuss."

He was angry, and even though he did not raise his voice or spring from the chair she could tell. It was a look in his eye and the way his body had tensed, as well as the way that Alex had placed a protective hand on her knee.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"There is no need to apologize," he replied, his posture relaxing again, "they were simply questions."

A few minutes of silence passed before the countess entered the room. She smiled softy as she passed Erik, "You seem content, dear."

He gave a lazy shrug as she sat down and took out some knitting, "Should I not be?"

"No, it is nice to see you happy," she laughed, arranging her knitting on her lap.

Erik watched her knit for a few minutes, "I did not know that you knitted."

"Well, I have to do something to keep me busy," she reasoned, "do you, dear?"

He gave a little chuckle, "No, it is a skill I never learned. I do sew, however."

"You sew?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Naturally," Erik replied, "I lived alone for much of my life, and so it seemed wise to teach myself to sew. If I hadn't, I would have spent a fortune on clothing…I can also cook."

"Impressive," Adrienne giggled, "Do you have any other hidden talents?"

"Many," Erik replied, "architecture, magic, sewing, cooking…music."

"Music?" the countess asked, "what sort?"

Erik shifted uncomfortably, "Written, instrumental and voice…"

"I have never heard you play or sing," she pointed out.

"I do neither anymore…it was a hobby of my past."

"Well, that is a shame," the countess said, clucking her tongue.

Erik gave a slight shrug and plucked a piece of fuzz from his sleeve, "Not really…I do not take joy in it as I once did."

"Well, that is unfortunate," she murmured, "tell me, are you joining us for the service tonight?"

"You are all hell bent on having me there, aren't you?" he asked irritably.

"Yes," Alex laughed, "and we won't leave you alone until we leave."

"Perhaps," he answered, "after all, it is tradition, non?"

* * *

**A/N: Hmm...dialogue heavy this chapter...and short as well. Ah well, at least it got done! I'll try to update as soon as I can, and since I managed to finish "The Great Gatsby" and write my Hamlet essay I only have to finish "Death of a Salesman" and piddle around with my lit summative...which looks to be pretty easy! Please leave me a review!**


	22. Significance

Significance

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved. - Helen Keller

Erik could not be entirely sure how he ended up climbing into the carriage, dressed in an evening suit and ready to attend a midnight mass. It didn't really matter though, for he was quickly folded uncomfortably into one of the seats, Alex beside him and Adrienne across from him. It was truly amazing that all five of them could fit, though no one would be able to say it was comfortably.

"I am glad that you decided to come," the count rumbled.

"Hmm, I'm still trying to figure out why I came," Erik said as the carriage jerked forward, "I must have been forced."

Alex gave a small laugh, "I have never seen you forced into anything…without a fight, that is. Of course if you hadn't come willingly we were going to knock you out and force you into the carriage."

Erik made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, "I would like to see you try that."

"You two behave," the countess chortled.

"Yes, especially you, Erik," the count agreed, "try not to insult anyone this time…and so try to be less sarcastic. It is damn well annoying."

"Is it really?" he asked, feigning ignorance, "I have never been told that before, I do appreciate being informed."

The count gave him a stern look in the dark, "Indeed."

"Behave yourself," the countess said sternly.

"I will try my hardest," Erik said, and he could tell by the look she gave him that she wasn't sure of his sincerity.

The carriage rattled on for some time in the night, moving more slowly than normal because of the darkness and snowy weather. More than once did Erik find his forehead coming far too close to the small glass window when the carriage hit a bump.

* * *

When the carriage did finally come to a stop Erik had to brace himself to keep his forehead from colliding with the window. He heard Adrienne give a dainty little laugh and shook his head, allowing the irritation from the long drive to dissipate. After all, it wouldn't hurt to try and go into the service with a positive attitude. 

"Well, that was a pleasant ride," Alex said, stretching after he helped Adrienne from the carriage.

"Oh yes," Erik agreed, "it was wonderful!"

"I saw that eye roll," Alex teased.

"Well then, you must have been looking at someone else," Erik said, "I was being whole-heartedly sincere."

"I'm sure you were," the count laughed, "come now, let's get inside where it is warm."

Erik gave a small sigh, watching the vapour from his breath swirl into the air before following with a swish of his cloak. Alex gave a small laugh at his theatrics, but said nothing.

"Oh, isn't it beautiful?" Adrienne gasped as they entered the dark church.

Erik nodded his head. Even he couldn't deny that the small building looked beautiful in the red glow of the candles, "Yes, I suppose so."

"You suppose?" Adrienne teased.

"It is lovely," he muttered.

"Try to contain your excitement," Alex teased, allowing Erik and Adrienne to slide into the pew before him.

* * *

The service was filled with beautiful Christmas hymns and an underlying current of excitement and joy. The pastor told the story of the birth of Jesus, and for once the sermon didn't seem to contain a particular lesson, just a story of joy. The entire atmosphere, between the soothing music and warmth of the chapel, had Erik feeling quite sluggish by the end of the service. 

The icy air roused him slightly upon exiting the church, and he stretched and yawned to try and shake the rest of the feeling. That was when it hit him, something cold and wet that exploded upon coming into contact with the back of his head, sending white, icy powder showing over his shoulders.

Alex didn't have a chance to dodge the clod of snow that hit him in the face, Erik was simply too fast for him, "Ugh, not my face!"

"All is fair in love and war," Erik retorted, his eyes smouldering.

"Boys!" the count exclaimed as his son scooped up another handful of snow, "boys, stop this! You are acting like children!"

The fight lasted for a few minutes, in which Alex claimed that Erik's use of his cloak was unfair. Erik gave a sharp laugh, "Unfair you say? This would be using it unfairly!"

Grabbing the corner of the cloak Erik swirled if over Alex's head, deftly unclipping it at the right moment. The heavy material fell onto the younger man, quickly entangling him, giving Erik the opportunity to kick him.

Alex tumbled to the ground in a flurry, disentangling himself as quickly as he could, "Cheater!" he coughed.

"I have never been one to fight fairly, young man," Erik smirked.

"You two are insufferable," the count growled, "people are staring.

"So let them," Alex panted, "Erik, would you mind lending me a hand?"

Erik sighed and reached out his hand, only to have Alex grab the front of his shirt. With a small cry of surprise he hit the ground. Alex let out a sharp laugh, "I can cheat as well."

Erik gave a low growl and pushed the younger man's face into the snow as he stood up, brushing off his clothes as he did so. Alex quickly followed suit, wiping snow from his face and hair.

"Oh, you are both soaked," the countess worried, "you'll catch your death like this."

"We're fine, mother," Alex laughed.

"Indeed," the count grumbled, "tell me, could you at least try to act like civilized men?"

Erik gave a breathless chuckle as he removed his waistcoat and cravat, "Civilization is overrated."

"And now you are stripping, how perfect," the count sighed.

Erik quirked an eyebrow, "In this weather? You must be mad, I would freeze to death!"

Alex snorted a laugh and the count shook his head in exasperation, "you are insufferable," he muttered under his breath.

Erik just shook his head, after all, it didn't really make sense to wear a soaked article of clothing and something that restricted his airway when he was breathing hard. Still, for the count not wearing a waistcoat or cravat practically meant not being dressed. Truthfully Erik could not stand wearing them all the time, it just didn't seem necessary.

"Come on," the countess said, "let's get going, I want you two to get dried off as soon as possible."

Alex grinned as the carriage rattled over, loosening his cravat when his father was not looking. Erik found himself smiling back at him as he picked up his cloak and brushed it off. It seemed as if the night hadn't been as bad as he would have thought.

"It looks as if you two have been enjoying this weather!" the pastor called, causing the small party to turn and look at him. Upon seeing Erik's face, however, the cheerful disposition seemed to falter slightly.

"I think he's afraid of you," Alex whispered.

"Truly?" Erik replied dryly, "I cannot imagine why."

"Well, boys will be boys," the countess chuckled, trying to ease the sudden tension, "that was a lovely service."

"I'm glad you thought so," the pastor said, "and what did you think of it….Erik, correct?"

I think that you are good with names," he replied silkily.

"Ah, still didn't enjoy it? Well, that is a shame, though I am sure that you do not think so."

"It was very…festive," Erik said.

"Well, I should allow you to get home, I'm sure that those two will want to dry off," he said, motioning to Alex and Erik.

"Yes, it was rather childish of them to have a snow fight," the count agreed.

"Puerile!" Erik corrected sharply, "It was rather puerile. It sounds so much better that way."

"Come along," the countess said, ushering them toward the carriage, "and happy Christmas.

"Happy Christmas," the pastor replied as the climbed in.

As he sat down in the carriage Erik suddenly brought his hand up to his neck, his eyes filled with momentary panic as he felt for the familiar chain. When he found it in place he let out a sigh of relief, for a moment he had thought it had been lost in the snow.

"What's that around your neck?" Adrienne asked, her brow furrowing.

"Nothing," Erik replied, tugging the chain out a bit.

"Is that the ring?" Alex asked.

Erik gave an inaudible groan and pulled it out, "Yes, it is a ring."

"Why do you wear it?" Adrienne asked.

"No reason, it is simply a ring," he muttered, quickly tucking it back into his shirt.

"Well it must hold some significance," the count argued.

Erik turned his head to look out the window, "It's simply a reminder of what might have been…the light in the darkness, so to speak. I simply wear it as a reminder, that is all."

* * *

**A/N: I had too much fun with this chapter...and I should be going to bed, but pah! I don't like sleeping...well, I like it when I'm asleep or sick, but as a general rule I'd rather be awake and doing stuff. Oh well. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that I weeded out any typos, since I tend to get lazy while editing things. Please leave a review!**


	23. Christmas Morning

Christmas Morning

Giving presents is a talent; to know what a person wants, to know when and how to get it, to give it lovingly and well. Unless a character possesses this talent there is no moment more annihilating to ease than that in which a present is received and given. - Pamela Glenconner

Erik stifled a yawn as he slumped into his chair at breakfast. The count raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored it as he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a gulp of the steaming liquid.

"A bit tired this morning, dear?" the countess asked.

"Hmm?" Erik blinked at her, "oh…just a tad."

"It isn't that early," Alex teased, "unless you didn't bother sleeping at all last night?"

"Happy Christmas," Erik grumbled.

"Happy Christmas," the countess said cheerfully.

"You aren't usually this tired at breakfast," the count commented, "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Between being dragged to the church service, sitting through it, having a snow fight and returning?" he asked, then furrowed his brow as if deep in thought, "no."

Alex laughed, "Yes well, I suppose being the loser you are entitled to be tired."

"You want this cup of coffee thrown at your head, don't you?" Erik asked glibly.

"Now, now, no threats at the breakfast table, dear," the countess said sweetly, "and please do not throw the coffee. It would be a terrible waste, and it would stain the table cloth."

Erik raised his cup to her with a small smirk, "I cannot argue with that logic, Madame."

"You know, there is something different about you this morning," the count grumbled, squinting slightly, "but I cannot seem to put my finger on it."

"Something different?" Erik asked, pushing food around his plate.

"Yes…" the count trailed off and observed him for a moment.

"His hair?" Alex offered, "It's messier than usual."

Erik gave a small frown and brushed his hair from his face, only to have it fall forward again, "Is that all?"

"It's also lighter," Adrienne pointed out.

"That it is," the count nodded, "your hair is a different colour than before."

"Hmm, I washed it," Erik muttered, taking another sip of his coffee.

The countess clucked her tongue disapprovingly, "Eat your breakfasts, there are things to be done."

"You normally wear a wig, don't you?" the count asked, stabbing at a sausage.

"I do," he answered.

"Why?" Adrienne asked.

Erik rubbed the back of his neck and gave a quiet groan. As long as he wore the white mask the deformity was easily covered, even if he did attempt to slick his hair back. With a small laugh he shrugged his shoulders, "For appearance, I suppose."

"Is everyone ready for the party tonight?" the countess asked, changing the subject.

"Of course, mother," Alex said, "we have been ready for days now."

"And you, Erik?" she asked.

"As ready as I can be."

"Oh, I know that you don't like crowds, dear, but it won't be that bad," she assured him.

"Famous last words, Madame," he murmured, "they go along with 'nothing bad could possibly happen' and 'this cannot get any worse.'"

"At least he still has his wit," the count grumbled

* * *

Once breakfast was over the countess bustled them all into the parlour, where they could watch the snowy landscape in the warmth. Little white flakes fell from the sky, adding themselves to the sparking blanket that had already amassed. Erik folded his arms over his chest as watched it while the others exchanged gifts, something he wasn't truly interested in.

He had never truly celebrated Christmas, which wasn't really all that surprising given his mother. She would always go out for a special mass in the morning, and then return with Madame Perrault. She would always give him a special little treat, such as a chocolate, but it never really meant anything. There had never been any real gifts, or carols, or fancy dinners, not for him at least. He had learned the songs and knew the rituals, but Christmas had always seemed to be a time to celebrate with family, something he and his mother never, in truth, seemed to be.

Alex made a face as he opened his parents' gift to reveal a book. It wasn't really his cup of tea, but he thanked them sincerely for it anyway, a grin etched on his features. He then opened Adrienne's gift, a pair of cufflinks, and put them on without hesitation. Most of the gifts were things like those, cufflinks, small pieces of jewellery, a book, and articles of clothing.

Not expecting a gift, it took Erik a few seconds to realise exactly what the small box Alex was waving in front of his face was. With a wary look he unfolded his arms slowly and took the brightly wrapped object, holding it in the palm of his hand as if it might break.

"Happy Christmas, Erik," Alex laughed, then after a moment added, "Well go on, open it."

Erik took a moment to look between the small box and the others in the room before slowly removing the wrapping. A small smile graced his lips as he opened the box. Inside was a cravat pin in the shape of a red rose, and he couldn't help but think how appropriate it was.

"Do you like it?" the countess asked when he said nothing.

"Oui, Madame," he murmured, "It is lovely, merci."

"You see, Richard, we told you he would like it," she said, nudging her husband with her elbow.

"Well I am glad," he said earnestly, "you know, you are a terribly difficult man to shop for, Erik. Adrienne actually suggested it, she said that she remembered you liking roses…a very wise young, lady, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed," Erik said, smiling slightly as he slipped the box into his pocket.

"You're blushing," Adrienne commented, "why?"

Erik shook his head as he turned the box over in his pocket, "No reason…"

"There must be a reason," the count disputed, "just spit it out, you have never been one to be at a loss for words."

Erik gave a slight shrug, "It is just that I have nothing for any of you. I wasn't expecting a gift so…"

"Is that all?" the countess laughed, causing the dull red in Erik's cheek to flare, "that doesn't matter, dear."

"Oh…" he murmured, and the way the countess laughed only made him feel worse about it.

"Oh, don't look so put out, dear. Presents aren't the important thing," she elaborated, "today is about spending time with those you care about."

"Which reminds me," Alex said, "Adrienne and I have to go visit with her family before tonight, so I will bid you all adieu until then."

"Of course," the countess smiled, "make sure to tell your family 'happy Christmas' from us, Adrienne."

"I will," she said, "and I promise that we'll be back in time for the party."

"Get back early," the count said, giving his son a stern look.

"Of course, father," he muttered, "we'll be back with plenty of time to spare, I assure you. After all, my formal wear is here and so is Adrienne's dress."

The count grumbled something under his breath as the two left the room, and the countess tapped his arm with her new fan. The count just frowned, "It was a legitimate concern."

"And you know that he will be back soon enough," she said.

"He loses track of time with that girl."

"That is because they are in love," she said, smiling at him, "they will be back in time, Adrienne will make sure of that."

"They had better be," he muttered.

The countess gave a small laugh and then clapped her hands together, "And until they do there are things that must be done. After all, there will be many people over tonight and everything must be ready. Erik, dear, why don't you go and get some rest?"

He gave a small nod of his head, "Yes…but perhaps I will go for a ride first…"

"Very well, go on then," she said, squeezing his arm as he passed her, "and don't dwell on it too much, a present really isn't that important. Think of going to the service last night as your gift to us if it seems so important. After all, it wasn't something you would normally do, was it?"

"I suppose not," he said, smoothing his sleeve.

"Go on then," the count said, "go for your ride and then get some sleep, I don't want you in a bad mood for the party."

Erik gave a small nod and slipped from the parlour, leaving the two to discuss their plans for the day. He then went up to his room and took the box out of his pocket, carefully examining the small pin before placing it on the desk with the silent promise to wear it that night. Then, with a small sigh he left with the plan to go to the stables. After all, he would need all the quiet time he could get to himself before facing the crowds of a party.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, an update...yeah...has anyone reading this ever played "Fatal Frame"? Because I was playing it tonight and wow, am I ever freaked out! Small noises and shadows are like the bane of my existence right now...and I am not easily scared. Show me any horror movie and I'll be like "M'kay...I guess it was kinda creepy..." but this game is like "WHA! GHOST!!!1!11one"...but really addicting. But I digress, chapter up, hope you liked it, please review and I am off to not sleep due to creep out factor of dark rooms...O.o**


	24. The Party

The Party

Constant kindness can accomplish much. As the sun makes ice melt, kindness causes misunderstanding, mistrust, and hostility to evaporate - Albert Schweitzer

Alex and Adrienne returned to the house with plenty of time to prepare before the guests started to arrive. Still, they waited outside of the ballroom for quite some time, greeting some of the guests as they entered the main hall, but mostly waiting for everyone to settle.

"I don't suppose Erik has come down yet?" the count grumbled.

"Not yet, father," Alex replied, smiling as a couple slipped into the ballroom.

"Well he should have," he muttered, "nearly everyone has arrived."

"I'm sure he'll be down soon," Alex assured him, "he's probably just getting ready. If you want, I'll go get him."

The count seemed to mull the idea over in his mind for a moment, "You should stay here to greet the guests…"

"I can go see if he's ready," Adrienne suggested, "it wouldn't be any trouble."

"How kind of you," the count said, "thank you, and tell him that he's to come down immediately."

Adrienne gave an unsure nod, "Alright."

Alex smiled and leaned in as if to steal a kiss, "Just knock first and see if he's ready."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, "That is what I was going to do."

As she walked away the count gave Alex a disapproving look, one that Alex shrugged off, "Well, it looks to be shaping up to be a nice party."

"Indeed," his father replied, "try to behave tonight, hmm?"

"Me, father? I always behave myself."

* * *

Adrienne made her way up the stairs and to Erik's room, the carpet of the hallways muffling the sound of her footsteps. As she reached his door she raised her fist to knock, but paused when she heard something from within. She couldn't be entirely sure, but it sounded as if he was humming something, and she waited a moment before knocking tentatively.

The humming stopped abruptly and there was a slight pause before he answered, "Who is it?"

"Just me," she answered, and then added, "Adrienne."

"Ah," she heard his sigh as he opened the door, "good evening, Mademoiselle."

"Good evening, Monsieur Erik, "she replied, "I came to tell you that the party has started, and that the count would like you to come down now."

"I thought as much," he murmured, stepping aside and motioning for her to enter, "you may come in for a minute, if you would like. I just have to put on my cravat."

She gave a small nod and stepped into the dimly lit room, staying near the door as he finished getting ready, which did only take him a minute. It was actually amazing to her at how quickly he tied the cravat, since it always seemed to take Alex forever and a day. He then picked up two waistcoats, one a deep green and the other crimson.

With a quirked eyebrow he turned to her and held them both up, "Which one?"

"Oh, umm…" she trailed off thoughtfully, "the green, I think."

With a small nod he tossed the red one to the side and slipped on the green one, buttoning it quickly before slipping on the jacket of his suit. He then went over to the mirror and put on the cravat pin.

"Well, I suppose that is all that can be done," he muttered, flattening his hair back.

"You're wearing the wig again," Adrienne noted softly, causing him to turn slightly.

"Yes I am," he acknowledged, "I prefer to wear it, though it seemed more of a bother this morning…well then, shall we head down? I am sure that Alex is wondering where you are, and the count where I am."

* * *

They went back down to the entrance hall, where the count and countess were waiting with Alex. The countess immediately broke into a smile and hurried to over to greet them, "Well, don't you look beautiful, Adrienne? What a lovely colour on you," she said, fussing over the deep blue dress, "and, Erik dear, how handsome. Now, just let me fix this…"

Erik ground his teeth as she tightened his cravat and then straightened the rose pin. She then went over and did the same to Alex, tightening his cravat and then smoothing his lapels. Alex rolled his eyes, but smile none the less.

"There you are," she said, "now, why don't we go and socialize a bit?"

As she hurried off Erik reached up and loosened his cravat again, smirking slightly as he turned to Alex, "I do believe we are supposed to be able to breath, non?"

"I'm not so sure," he replied, loosening his as well, "come on, time to enjoy ourselves."

"How many people are there here?" Erik asked, listening to the music and voices that drifted out of the ballroom.

"More than you'd care for," Alex answered, taking Adrienne's arm.

"Splendid," Erik sighed, straightening his posture, "well, let's get this over with, hmm?"

There were at least a hundred people in the ballroom, if not more. It was hard to tell, since they all mingled together in groups to talk, or spread out across the dance floor. Erik hesitated as he took in the scene, the lavish dresses mixed together with the black of the evening wear. The ballroom as decorated with silver and gold, and a band played in the corner, with a drink table at the far end, resting near to the doors to the garden.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Adrienne asked, obviously trying to distract him from all of the people.

"Oh yes," Erik murmured, "lovely, indeed."

Alex didn't allow him much time to dwell on the crowd, or the decorations fro that matter, as he quickly took him around to meet his many friends and acquaintances. The number of people that the young man knew seemed staggering to Erik, and when Adrienne left part way through to talk with some of the women Erik found himself painfully alone with the young man.

"Oh, and there is my good friend Clive," Alex smiled, waving at a dark haired man who was standing with a young blonde woman, "and it seems that his sister came as well. Come Erik, you should meet them both; Olivia is quite a nice young woman."

"Clive!" Alex beamed, approaching the other man, "Clive, I would like to introduce you to Monsieur Erik. Erik, this is my good friend Clive Ackhart."

"Good to meet your, Sir," Clive said, smiling as he shook his hand, "and may I introduce you to my sister, Olivia?"

"Good evening, Sir," she said, a small smile fluttering across her lips.

"Good evening," he replied, grazing his lips against her knuckled dutifully, "I hope you are enjoying the party, Mademoiselle."

"Mademoiselle?" she giggled, "oh, are you French, Sir?"

Erik gave a stiff little nod, "I am."

"Erik is the architect my father hired to build the new estate in France," Alex explained cheerfully.

"Oh, and how is that going?" Clive asked.

"Well," Erik replied with a shrug, "the building has stopped for the winter, but once the weather becomes more favourable all should run smoothly."

"Are you enjoying the party?" Olivia asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Yes," Erik replied tonelessly, "it's…amusing."

"You don't sound as if you're having fun," she said, twirling a stray strand of her hair around her finger.

"Alex cleared his throat to suppress a laugh and turned to Clive, "Tell me, have you met Adrienne?"

"Yes, I believe you introduced me to her once," he nodded.

"Well we are engaged no!" Alex announced, "come, you must meet her again. I think that she is…ah, there. Gossiping with some friends, how like her."

"Well, I would be honoured to meet her again. Olivia, would you care to meet Mister Beaumont's fiancé?"

"Hmm?" she asked, turning her attention away from Erik, "oh no, I think I will stay here and talk with Mister Erik, thank you."

Alex flashed Erik a quick smile before leading Clive over to meet Adrienne. She of course smiled warmly at his through the introduction, "it is a pleasure to meet you again, Mister Ackhart, how have you been?"

"Well, thank you," he replied, "and you, engaged to be married to my friend? I must say, I believe you could do better."

Alex scowled jokingly and punched his friend's arm playfully, "Come now, Clive."

Adrienne gave a small laugh before turning to Alex, "Alex, did you lose Monsieur Erik?"

"Oh no. I left him with Clive's sister," he laughed.

"Olivia is a terrible flirt," Clive said, "I do hope that your friend will be alright, Alex."

"Erik? Oh, he will be just fine."

"Alex!" Adrienne scolded, "He looks terribly uncomfortable…"

"He'll be fine," he assured her, "see, here he comes now, and no worse for wear."

Erik strode over looking quite pleased with himself, though it did not stop him from casting Alex a venomous look. Alex just laughed it off, "You got away, did you?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, she decided to go off and visit with some old friends," Erik said, smoothing his sleeve, "tell me, would any of you care for a drink, I was about to get one myself."

"No thank you," Clive replied.

"I'm fine as well," Alex said, "but thank you."

"Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"Oh, yes thank you," Adrienne replied, "merci, Monsieur."

"You are welcome," he replied, "Oh, Monsieur Ackhart, do you speak any French?"

"Not a word of it," he answered, "and neither does my sister."

"Oh, I am fully aware of that," Erik replied, "well, I will right back."

As he turned to leave Alex caught his sleeve, "How did you know that Olivia doesn't speak French?"

"How indeed?" Erik countered, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"You can be quite the devil, you know that?" Alex asked.

"My master will be pleased to hear that," Erik smirked.

"She is a nice young woman," Alex frowned, "you should have been nicer to her."

"I was perfectly civil," Erik replied, "now, if you don't mind, I have drinks to get."

* * *

**A/N: And another chapter is up...yay! Umm, not much to say today...finally put something up on my Deviantart account...a two year old painting, since my scanner is broken and I also have no digital camera at the momemt. Oh well, if you are terribly interested in seeing it, I'll have a link in my profile. I'll try to update fairly quickly. Please review.**


	25. Good Night

Good Night

One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life. - Chinese Proverb

Erik downed the glass of champagne with one gulp, wrinkling his nose slightly at the flavour. He had forgotten that he didn't particularly like the drink, but it was better than nothing, especially with the line of people that Alex no doubt had for him to meet.

With a slight sigh he picked up another glass and began to pick his way slowly through the crowd, offering polite nods and weak smiles to those that he passed. When he finally found Alex and Adrienne they were, as he had guessed, talking with a new acquaintance of some sort. For a moment he considered feigning illness in order to escape, but decided against it. He would stay, be polite, and live to see the next day.

"Here you are, Mademoiselle," he murmured, handing Adrienne the glass.

"Merci, Monsieur," she smiled, "and Alex and I would like you to meet Mister and Misses Brookes."

"A pleasure," Erik said, allowing the weak smile to briefly claim his lips.

It seemed like the thousandth time that eyes appraised him, scraping over his form and spending too much time observing the mask. Of course everyone there was too polite to ask questions, they would simply stare when they thought he wasn't looking. Or, in this case, when he was looking.

"Pleased to meet you as well," the woman said, dragging her eyes away from the mask for a moment.

Erik forced a tight smile and kissed her offered hand, before turning to shake the hand of her husband.

"So, Erik," the man said, "Alex tells me that you are an architect. How…nice."

Alex could have sworn that he heard Erik's teeth grind together at the man's tone. He could certainly see his jaw shift, and gave a nervous little laugh as he waited for Erik's response, which came in the form of a civil, "I enjoy it."

"Well, I suppose that is important," the man muttered, "after all, one much enjoy their work."

"Indeed," Erik growled.

It was amazing at how one conversation could erode his good mood, and Erik finally took to shifting his weight from foot to foot as they spoke. Alex was talking with them about their recent trip to Italy, and though the young man included him in the conversation, the other two ignored him rather well.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" the woman asked, "it is truly a beautiful country."

"I lived in Italy when I was younger," Erik replied.

"Oh, really?" she asked, as if she were amazed by that fact.

"Yes," he snapped, "and if you would not mind, I prefer it when people address me instead of the mask."

She seemed suddenly taken aback, and fakes a small, embarrassed laugh. Her husband, however, stopped her before apologising, "I don't think that I like your tone, Sir."

"That goes the same for you," Erik retorted, "the mask does not speak, I do."

The man took a step back, but still pulled himself up as if he were offended, "Well then."

Erik could see Alex bite his lip nervously and took a deep breath to try and calm his temper. When it didn't seem to work he bit out, "Excuse me," and walked away.

"Well, he seems to be quite haughty," the woman sniffed.

"Indeed, terribly rude," her husband agreed.

"Excuse me," Adrienne said haughtily, turning and following Erik through the crowd.

* * *

She found him leaning against the far wall, watching the dancers on the floor. With a small smile she came up to him, "Couldn't stand them?" 

"Not for much longer," he muttered darkly, "I expect that they think me quite rude."

"Perhaps," she agreed, "but you managed to keep your temper in check."

"Just barely," he admitted, turning his eyes away to glare at the dance floor, "I cannot stand people like them."

Adrienne gave a small, sympathetic smile and reached up to cup his cheek gently, "Try not to come onto problems that upset you, just forget them for now."

Erik shifted uncomfortably and pulled away from her touch, "You did not have to follow me, Mademoiselle."

"I couldn't stand them either," she said, "I thought it was better to leave before I said something I would regret."

"Such as?" Erik asked.

"I couldn't very well say," she gasped, blushing slightly.

Erik gave a small smile, "I see."

"Would you care to dance, Monsieur?" she asked, "my fiancé will no doubt be talking with his friends for a while longer, and I do not wish to speak with them again."

Erik's brow creased for a moment, "I do not know."

"It's just a dance," she said, gently taking his hand, "I assure you that Alex will not mind."

Erik allowed her to lead him onto the dance floor and cautiously placed a hand on her wait while she grasped his other one. She laughed quietly at his uncertainty, but wouldn't let him leave either. It took a few minutes, but he finally seemed to settle into some sort of comfort zone and she had him dance until the song was finished.

"I will go find Alex now," she said, "thank you for the dance, Monsieur Erik."

He gave a small nod, "I think I will go and get a drink. I think that I have met enough new people for one night."

* * *

Erik found a relatively quiet spot and stood there, watching and criticizing the other guests. It was a habit that he had developed at the Opera Populaire, something he had used to occupy his time at the galas. 

"Enjoying your evening, dear?" the countess asked.

"It is enthralling," Erik replied blandly.

"And how long have you been hiding here?"

"It is hardly hiding," he pointed out, "but an hour or so…"

"Well, it is almost over, people are already beginning to leave."

"That is the first good things I've heard all night."

"If you would like to go to bed now it would be fine," she said, "you've stayed for along enough, and I have no doubt Alex introduced you to all his friends?"

Erik gave a tired smile, "Indeed…"

"But if you could talk to my husband first, he wanted to see you," she said, "he is over at the drinks table right now."

Erik gave a small nod and made his way over to where several grey-haired men were standing. The count immediately turned to greet him, "Ah, there you are. Where have you been hiding?"

"No where," Erik replied, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, my friends here were curious about you," he said, motioning to the other men, "they wanted to know who the mysterious architect was."

"I am mysterious now?" Erik inquired.

"Oh yes," one of the others said, "certainly. No one here had seen you, and yet we've heard so much. But you designed the new estate? You seem a bit young for that."

"That seems to be the general misconception," Erik murmured, "now if you will all excuse me, I was about to head off. It has been a long night."

"Yes of course," the count said, "you look a bit pale, it's probably best you head off now. Good night, Erik."

Erik raised his eyebrow and then gave a small nod before leaving. He wondered if the count was a bit drunk, after all, the man was acting a bit too friendly towards him.

"Good night, dear!" the countess called as he passed her.

"Good night," he murmured, giving a small bow before he left the ballroom. Once out he took a deep breath and ran his hands though his hair before hurrying up to his room. That had certainly been enough excitement to last him for a life time.

* * *

**A/N: Not a particularly entralling chapter, but I like how it turned out. Please leave me a review.**


	26. Guests

Guests

If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. - Marcus Aurelius

When Erik didn't attend breakfast no one thought anything of it, in fact the count didn't even bring up his absence at lunch. It had been figured that he would spend as much time as possible alone that day, after all, he had been around enough people at the party to last him a life time. Still, when he did not come down for supper the count had had enough.

"Father, you could do him a favour and let him alone," Alex said.

"He has been alone all day," the count countered, "one meal will not hurt him, in fact it might do him some good."

"Richard, be kind," the countess said patronizingly, "and if he doesn't wish to come, just let him be."

The count grumbled something and left the table, making his way up to Erik's room. He then knocked on the door and waited for a response, knocking again when he got none, "Erik!"

The door opened and the count stepped back slightly. Erik simply stared at him expectantly, "Yes?"

"I want you to come down for supper," he said firmly, "you haven't been down all day. What in the devil have you been up to?"

"Work," Erik answered simply, "I was simply getting a few things in order. I wanted to ensure that all the plans for you new estate were in order, and that my ledger has been filled out properly."

"Planning on leaving?" the count asked.

Erik shrugged, "In time. I just wanted to ensure that you would not have any trouble once I am gone."

"How very…thoughtful, Erik. Now, come down for dinner, you could certainly use a good meal."

Erik resigned himself to follow the count to the dining room. After all, it wouldn't hurt him to have a meal with them. The countess was of course overjoyed that he had come, and quickly filled his plate.

* * *

"Ah yes, there was something I was meaning to tell you, Erik," the count said. 

Erik chewed slowly on the piece of meat he was eating, "Mmm?"

"We will be having guests here in a few days time," he said, "they will be here for three days."

"Hmm, I was considering going to France tomorrow," Erik said thoughtfully, "I wish to retrieve funds from an account, and to settle some business I have with an acquaintance."

"And how long will this take?"

Erik shrugged "It should not take more than two days, depending on the weather."

"Hopefully it will be good then," Alex smirked, "you wouldn't want to miss our guests, would you?"

"I would never dream of it," Erik said.

"You had better be back in two days," the count grumbled.

"I will," Erik assured him, "now, if you will excuse me, I am finished eating and have other things to attend to."

"You are excused," the countess said, before her husband could speak, "will you be at breakfast tomorrow?"

"I hope to be on a boat at that time," Erik replied. Then, with a small bow, he swept from the room.

Once he was gone Alex looked up from him meal, "Who are we having over, father?"

"Philippe and his younger brother," he answered, "and I believe he said something about another in his letter."

"Truly?" Alex asked, "Well, I haven't seen either of them in quite some time. It will be nice to catch up with them again. I will have to invite Adrienne, I can't recall if she has met them before."

"Finish your supper," the count grumbled, "and Erik had better return on time."

"He will," the countess said confidently, "he's a good man."

"Hmm, but very cunning," the count pointed out.

"He'll be back," Alex repeated his mother's statement, thought he couldn't say that he had his mother's confidence. After all, it was Erik.

* * *

**A/N: Fear the shortness of this chapter...because it is really short. I guess it's a bit of a bridge to te next one though, which I will try to get up sometime soon. Please leave me a review...not that there's much to review.**


	27. Chance Encounters

Chance Encounters

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings. - Anais Nin

Erik stretched languidly; at least he had managed to relay the money to Madame Giry. He had even done it in an indirect way, sending it to her by mail, to the address she had given him. With it he had included a small note that read 'do with it as you please.'

The trip, however, had been trying, as the channel was always rough and even worse in the winter. Still, the overall weather had not been bad, and he had even found time to visit the build site to check on it. No real progress had been made, though he did note a small amount of work done. He knew that he had recommended those workers for a reason; they were the best and would work whenever the weather permitted it.

With a small yawn he glance towards the window, and noted that no light came from outside. It was really surprising, given the time of year. He had slept through the entire day, needing the rest after the long trip, and unwilling to meet the guests late at night.

He glanced at the clock and gave a slight sigh; supper had just started, meaning that he could still attend without getting into too much trouble. So, with a small groan, he got out of bed and started to dress.

"He ought to be down here," were the first words Erik heard upon coming to the dining room door.

"Are you certain he's home, darling?" the countess asked.

"Of course he is. The door to his room was shut and locked all day. He's simply holding himself up in there," he grumbled.

Erik smirked at the count's remark. For once he wasn't trying to hide, simply trying to get as much rest as he could so that he could attempt to be pleasant for their guests. With a quiet chuckled he raised his fist and rapped it twice against the door. He had learned a while back that it was the polite thing to knock when one was late.

"That must be him," he heard the countess murmur.

"Come in!" the count barked.

* * *

Erik entered the room, turning to close the door behind him, "I would like to…" 

When he turned around the words died on his lips, leaving him utterly speechless. At the same time it felt as if a terrible force had been hammered into his chest, his throat went dry and he felt vaguely nauseous.

The countess was the first to notice this, "Are you alright, dear? You look as if you might be ill!"

"If so, then please leave the room," the count grumbled, looking up from his meal, "ah, but I forget my manners. Erik, these are the guests I told you about, Philippe de Chagny, his younger brother Raoul and Miss Christine Daae. Philippe, this is Erik, the architect I was telling you about."

Erik found that his muscles didn't seem to want to work, and all he could do was stand by the door. He attempted to say something, flicking his tongue out and over his lips in attempt to wet them, but it didn't seem to have a lasting effect. The fact that he couldn't seem to get enough air didn't help any either.

"A pleasure to meet you," Philippe said, breaking the silence as he offered Erik his hand.

"Indeed," Erik nearly whispered. Then he seemed to come back to himself and took the man's offered hand, "a pleasure."

"Brother, be polite," Philippe whispered loudly, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Erik?" Raoul ground out, "a pleasure."

Alex was immediately put off by Raoul's unexplained hostility towards Erik. In all the time he had know Raoul, he had known him to be gentle. Raoul was always the sort to avoid a fight. The way that Erik returned the greeting was equally off putting, as he nearly crushed Raoul's hand when he shook it.

"Miss Daae?" Alex asked.

"Oh…umm, a pleasure," she said quickly, offering her hand to Erik.

Erik drew back then, and for a minute it appeared as if he wouldn't take it. But he did in the ends, barely touching her fingers with his own, and merely grazing his lips over her knuckles. He then drew back again and murmured, "Mademoiselle…welcome."

"There, finally dredged up some manners, haven't you?" the count asked, "now, do you intend to stand through the entire meal, or will you be joining us?"

Erik shot the count a half-hearted glare as he sat down, "Pardon my manners."

Christine found that she couldn't make herself eat, as her appetite had disappeared the moment she had seen _him. _Truthfully she felt mildly ill, and settled for pushing the food around her plate, occasionally taking small bites and chewing them extremely well.

She could almost feel the tension in the room that now seemed all too small. Raoul sat with his shoulders back and his back stiff. He seemed to constantly keep his eyes on Erik…Erik; it was strange to hear his name. She had always wondered if he had had a name. Meanwhile, even with the tension, Philippe and Alex seemed to be keeping up a conversation revolving around politics.

"How have you all been?" the countess finally asked, attempting to draw the conversation away from the government.

"Oh, splendidly," Philippe answered, "father has been feeling better lately, and everything seems to be going well. My little brother is engaged now, so that is of course marvellous news."

"It is indeed," Alex agreed, "did I tell you that I am engaged as well? I don't believe you've ever met Adrienne, but she will be here tomorrow and then you can meet my fiancée."

"You're getting married?" Raoul asked.

"Yes, in May," Alex confirmed, "and when is your wedding?"

"A date hasn't been set," Christine said softly.

"We haven't been able to agree on one yet," Raoul shrugged.

"What a shame," Erik muttered.

"We were considering July," Raoul continued, ignoring Erik's bitter remark.

"Summer wedding are of course very popular," the countess smiled, "the weather is always so nice."

"What about a winter wedding?" Erik asked quietly, "the snow would make is quite beautiful."

"It would keep some of the guests away," Raoul objected, "travelling in the winter is difficult at times."

"Sometimes you must be willing to take risks," Erik remarked.

"Don't be foolish," the count said, "spring or summer would be much better. Then the weather is warm enough for everyone to attend, and there are fresh flowers available.

Erik shrugged his shoulders almost sadly, before returning to his task of pushing the food around his plate. Christine found herself mimicking his actions. She didn't want to talk about the wedding, for setting the date wasn't really the problem, it was Raoul's family. True enough, Philippe seemed to be fine with it, and as the Comte he didn't threaten to disinherit Raoul. The rest of the family, however, seemed to dislike her. After all, she was only a singer…a singer involved in the biggest scandal in the history of the Paris Opera.

* * *

When the meal was over they all moved into the parlour, which proved to be significantly awkward. Erik sat in the chair furthest away from the other, while Raoul sat beside Christine on the sofa, with Alex on his other side. Alex, of course, kept up a cheerful conversation between them all, though Christine preferred to remain as quiet as possible. 

Erik also didn't seem to want to talk. She watched him as if transfixed, picking out little details about him. He seemed to be well, he looked as if he had gained some weight since the night of the fire and his skin didn't seem as pallid anymore. Every now and then his tongue would dart out to wet his lips, though he never said anything.

"You're being awfully quiet, dear," the countess murmured, leaning towards him a bit, "is something the matter?"

"Nothing at all," he replied, offering a flicker of a smile.

"Are you certain?" she asked gently, "you're feeling well?"

"Just a bit tired," he sighed.

"If you are tired, then perhaps you should go to bed, Monsieur," Christine suggested, surprising herself.

Erik's head snapped up, "I-uh…yes, perhaps I will. Good night."

Christine watched as he left the room, giving the smallest bow at the door. It had been so long since she had seen him, nearly eight months and she was still haunted by him. She felt Raoul gently squeeze her arm and turned to him with a smile. She knew that he was worried about her, and tried her best to reassure him.

"Are you alright?" he murmured.

"I'm fine," she replied quietly, "but I might go to bed soon too. I'm still a bit worn from the trip."

"You remember where your room is?" he checked.

She gave a small smile and kissed his cheek, "I do. Good night."

Once she was out of the parlour she allowed a heavy sigh to escape her breast. Three days now seemed as if it would last forever.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked the chapter, it was definately way better than the last one...since the last one kind of sucked. Oh well, please drop me a review, I am off to eat!**


	28. Strange Behaviour

Strange Behaviour

We shall find peace. We shall hear angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds - Anton Chekov

"Well, that was odd," the countess commented, once both Erik and Christine were gone.

"How so?" Philippe asked.

"Oh, he just wasn't acting like himself," she shrugged.

"Oh, and what is he normally like?" Raoul asked bitterly.

"Well, he is a bit anti-social," she said, "but he just seemed more so tonight. Poor dear, he seemed so shy."

"He isn't shy, mother, he just doesn't like people. He seems to have taken a particular disliking to you, old friend," he jested at Raoul, "is your hand alright?"

"I'd say so, and it is fine, thank you," Raoul replied.

"Well, if he has taken a disliking to you, I would suggest being a bit wary," the count advised, "he isn't exactly known for his even temper."

"No he isn't," Raoul said under his breath.

"Richard, you make it sound as if he will stab the poor boy in the back," the countess said shrilly, "he really isn't that bad, Raoul."

"Yes, and I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in the morning," Alex said, "he did just return from France, so he was probably just tired."

"Wonderful," Raoul muttered. Erik returning to his 'old self' was about the last thing that he wanted.

The next morning Christine sat down for breakfast to find that everyone else was there, with the exception of Erik. The countess greeted her with a warm smile and a plate, "Would you like coffee or tea?"

"Oh, tea please," Christine murmured.

"Of course, I find coffee to be far too bitter," the countess said, handing Christine a teacup, "so you take anything in it?"

"Plain is fine," she said, then looked around the table and asked as casually as she could, "is Erik not joining us?"

"It is his choice whether or not he wants to eat," the count replied, "the man often misses meals, though I would prefer if he didn't"

"Oh," Christine murmured, taking a sip of her tea. As she set the cup down Erik entered the room, silently taking his seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" Philippe asked.

Erik looked up and stared at him evenly, "No, not particularly."

"That's a shame," Christine murmured.

"Oh…uh, I-I suppose so…" Erik stammered.

"Tongue-tied, this morning?" Alex teased.

"I'll tongue-"

"No threats at the breakfast table, dear," the countess interrupted.

Erik wrinkled his nose slightly and settled for a bone-chilling glare. One the Alex just laughed off. Over the time that Erik had been there, he had learned to shrug off his threatening looks.

After a short pause Raoul spoke up, "Alex, I was thinking that we could go for a ride later."

"That is a splendid idea," Alex agreed, "you, Philippe, Erik and I?"

"Err, yes," Raoul muttered, "of course."

"I'd rather not," Erik said sharply.

"Why not?" Philippe asked.

"I am not-"

"Don't try that again," Alex interrupted, "you feel fine. Every time you wish to get out of something you claim to be ill, and yet you seem to be one of the healthiest people I have met. You are not sick."

"I was going to say that I am not going out in the cold," Erik snapped, "and I can easily make myself sick, young man."

"Well, you have fun with that," Alex retorted.

"Please!" the countess exclaimed, "you two are making Miss Daae uncomfortable."

"My apologies," Alex said quickly.

"Yes," Erik muttered, "mine as well."

"Its fine," Christine murmured, "but thank you."

Once the meal was over Erik disappeared into his room. Alex merely rolled his eyes at the strange behaviour. He knew that Erik wasn't one for social interaction, but the man had never before turned down the opportunity for a ride. Erik loved it in the stables, certainly more so than he loved being in the house. Still, Alex was not about to let it ruin his day, so he went down to the stable with Philippe, and Raoul's promise to come down and join them later.

"Well, your new friend seems to be quite…temperamental," Philippe commented, "tell me, what was all that about at breakfast?"

"It is easiest not to ask questions," was Alex's response, "he can be a bit…well, temperamental at times."

"Yes, and he certainly seems to dislike my brother," Philippe commented.

"Yes, I noticed that too. He does seem a tad hostile towards him, but Raoul seems to dislike him just as much."

"Indeed, and you know Raoul, he isn't one for conflict. But just the way he looks at Erik…it's odd."

"Indeed, and Erik, though I can't say he's one for conversation, has never been tongue-tied before. At least not while here. Even if it's just some snide remark, he always seems to have it perfectly planned out. I have never seen him stumble over his words…and I honestly though he was going to be sick last night."

"Yes…well, enough of that," Philippe said, "you are getting married! I never thought I'd see the day."

"No?" Alex laughed, "And what about Raoul? He seems so happy with Miss Daae."

"Well he had better be," Philippe muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. Miss Daae is a very nice girl, do not get me wrong. But she had him running in circles for months, you would not believe it! And of course, father was furious when he heard of his intentions to marry her, not to mention the rest of the family. Honestly, I was a bit put off myself, having him running after a chorus girl and all…and then the scandal!"

"Scandal?" Alex asked.

"You haven't heard?"

"I've been stuck over here in England, if you will recall."

"Ah yes," Philippe sighed, "then you would not have heard much, if anything, about the strange affairs of the Phantom of the Opera."

* * *

Christine sat in the parlour with the countess, who had a small needlework settled on her lap. The older woman would continuously look up from her work and flash Christine little smile, which she attempted to return. She always found it so awkward to sit in a room with someone she barely knew, especially those of the upper class. 

"Are you enjoying yourself thus far?" the countess asked, "your room is comfortable, and all?"

"Oh yes," Christine nodded, "everything fine, thank you for letting me come."

"Well, that's a bit better," the countess smiled, "you were so quiet at supper and breakfast, I was afraid that you weren't enjoying yourself."

"It wasn't that," Christine murmured, "it was just…"

"Was it Erik, dear?"

Christine gave an embarrassed nod, "Well…yes."

"Oh, I know that he can be a bit startling at first, he is a rather intimidating figure. But he is a very kind man," she assured her, "it wasn't the mask, was it?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Christine exclaimed.

The countess gave a shrill laugh at her response, "Well, that's a good thing. He is rather self-conscious about it, after all. He's been acting a bit off as well, actually. I'm a bit worried about him. Hopefully he'll be a bit better tonight."

"Maybe," Christine agreed, though she highly doubted it to be true. She knew why he was acting so strangely, and it was the same reason that she felt so isolated suddenly. But it was still good to see him again…just to know that he was alive and well.

* * *

**A/N: Two days in a row, and maybe nothing until Monday, I have a horse show on Sunday, so I'm getting ready on Saturday and I'm going to see Hostel 2 on Friday. So, busy weekend, but you never know what I'll get done.**


	29. Storm

Storm

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. - Anne Bradstreet

It was nearing supper when Adrienne arrived at the estate, much to the excitement of Alex. He quickly introduced her to the De Chagnys and Christine, whom she was delighted to meet. She took an immediate liking to Christine, as she was the only other young woman in the house. Of course, Adrienne was also the first to notice that Erik was not around.

"Where is Monsieur Erik?" she asked at length.

"Who knows," Alex replied, "he has made himself scarce since breakfast…he might have gone out for a ride, the white mare was gone when Raoul, Philippe and I returned from our ride this afternoon."

"Well I hope he doesn't stay out," she worried, "the weather is turning, I think we might be in for a storm."

"Erik is fairly savvy," Alex chuckled, "I'm sure he will notice the weather. Besides, he is bound to get hungry sooner or later."

"Or freeze," Adrienne murmured.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Raoul said icily.

"Yes, well if he doesn't return soon he will miss yet another meal. Honestly, he has already missed one, and been later for two others," the count grumbled, "it seems as if he is reverting back to…I stand corrected."

"And where have you been?" Alex asked as Erik entered the parlour, white flakes slowly melting in his hair and clothes.

"Contemplating life," he replied.

"Did you make any great discoveries while doing so?" Alex continued.

"That it is unwise to delve into such a deep topic…and that it is going to storm tonight. I suggest preparing a guest room for Adrienne."

"You can tell one of the maids to do so when you go to get changed," the count said, "you aren't missing another meal, so hurry up and meet us in the dining room."

"Of course," Erik muttered, giving a slight nod before leaving the room.

* * *

"You should eat something," the countess chimed half way though dinner.

Erik just flicked his food around the plate with his fork. He wasn't hungry, and had no intention of eating or looking up from his plate. He was afraid that if he looked up his eyes would meet with Christine's, and that was something he did not want. He could still remember how young and innocent those eyes had been before everything he had put her through.

"Talk?" the countess continued, "look someone in the eye?"

"Stop pestering me!" he snapped, causing everyone to jump at the harsh tone.

"No need to get upset, dear," she murmured.

Erik gave a mall snort. Of course there was reason to be upset! Everything he had been working towards over the past eight months seemed to be falling apart around him. For eight months he had been recovering, trying to move on and forget. And he had nearly tricked himself into believing that he had done it until now. Apparently it wasn't so easy to put the past behind you.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, and once it was finished they moved to the parlour to have drinks and tea. Outside, the snow was coming down hard and being whipped around in the wind. Christine smiled at the scene as she was handed a cup of tea.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she murmured, "It reminds me of Sweden. My father and I used to always watch the snow together…it's one of the few things I remember of my home."

"I don't know," Adrienne shrugged, "it makes everything so slippery, and it's so easy to get lost in. I've heard storied of people who have frozen to death just feet from their homes, because they couldn't find the door in a storm."

"It is nothing but frozen water," Erik muttered.

"Always ready to ruin the atmosphere," Alex teased, "well, I think that it's pretty, as long as you don't have to out in it, that is. Don't you like the snow, Erik?"

"Not particularly," he answered, "I always found it to be a nuisance."

"My father always used to tell me stories on nights like this," Christine commented.

"Once upon a time," Erik began, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully, "there was a white rose, and a nightingale…"

Erik was an expert story teller. His voice was smooth and deep, with every inflection at just the right spot. By the end there were tears in the eyes of Adrienne, Christine and the countess.

"But…what happened to the rose?" Adrienne asked, "She must have been heart broken."

Erik gave a small shrug, "Perhaps she went off with the lark…after all, who would want a nightingale when they could have a lark? They are so much more beautiful."

Christine felt a twinge of guilt at that. After all, it was obvious that she was the rose, and that Raoul was the lark. She felt Raoul put an arm around her shoulders and turned her face away, shrugging him off.

"I'm fine," she murmured, "the story was just sad."

At that moment a strong gust of wind rattled the windows, causing Adrienne to give a small scream and move closer to Alex. It caused Erik to give a small smile.

"It's only the wind," Philippe said.

"It just startled me," she murmured, "that's all."

"Thunder storms and snow storms," Erik chuckled, "are you afraid of all the elements?"

"I just don't like them," she said indignantly, "they make me nervous."

"I sometimes sing when I'm nervous," Christine commented, "well, I used to at least…"

I'm not a very good singer," Adrienne said, "but you could, couldn't you, Monsieur Erik?"

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head, "I couldn't."

"Christine," Raoul murmured, "why don't you sing?"

Christine bit her lip nervously, but gave a small nod, "I-I guess I could…I mean, I don't really know what to sing, but…"

"Just the first thing that comes to mind," the countess said.

Christine gave a small nod and began to sing an old French Christmas carol she had heard Madame Giry singing. It sounded almost wrong to her though, some of the notes came up flat, and she could hear it in her voice that she had left it unused for too long. Still, the others didn't seem to mind, and when she finished they all applauded. Well, except for Erik, who practically bolted from the room the moment she finished.

"Erik!" the count barked.

"It's fine," Christine murmured.

"No it is not," he sighed, "I apologise, Miss Daae, he has been acting quite strangely today. More strangely than usual."

"I think I might go see what's wrong," the countess sighed, "if you'll excuse me for a minute."

"Maybe…maybe I could go see," Christine suggested softly, "I mean, if that's fine."

"Of course," the countess said, "go ahead, his room is upstairs, the one that has always had the closed door."

"Merci, I think I know the one," Christine said.

"Christine?" Raoul asked quietly, reaching for her hand.

She gave a small smile and squeezed it before heading for the door. She took a deep breath before opening it and stepping into the hall. She didn't even need to find his room, for Erik was there, sitting on he stairs with his head in his hands.

* * *

**A/N: Oh noez, a cliffhanger-y ending to da chapter! WUT?!!1!? ...and with that burst of idiocy out of the way, let me apologize for taking so long to give you this chapter. Let's just say that horse shows take up a lot of time...but it went very well, other than my being too sore to move yesterday. Billy helped me all the way up to reserve champion of my division (2nd best overall in my five classes) and it was fun. But, like I said, it meant a full weekend of me not writing. Anyways, please review, and I will try to update soon...after I get some work done on my last essay of the year! Yay, school is almost out!!!1!1one!**


	30. A Song and A Kiss

**A Song and A Kiss**

I love thee, I love but thee  
With a love that shall not die  
Till the sun grows cold,  
And the stars grow old... - Bayard Taylor

Erik rested his head in his hands and took a shuddering breath. He didn't know why her voice affected him so, but it did. While she sang he had been unable to move, it was as if her voice had frozen him to the chair. He had attempted to get up, tried to pull himself away from the enchantment, but had failed. It wasn't until she had finished the song - that stupid little Christmas carol - that he had been able to move.

"E-Erik?" Christine asked, her voice sounding small in her throat.

"What?" he ground out.

"I-I, uh…are you crying?" she asked, "Please don't cry."

"What should I do, laugh?" he snapped.

She wrung her hands together and focussed her gaze on the floor, "I-I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know…" she mumbled.

"Then don't apologize."

Christine flinched at his harsh tone. He was angry and bitter, and she realized now that, without the others around, he was able to show it. While around them he had managed to hide his emotions effectively behind the mask, with only the smallest flickers of his true feelings coming through.

"I'm glad you are well," she said, attempting to smile.

"If you are trying to be pleasant, then there is no need," he replied, "you would not have cared if I had died."

"That's not true," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I-I was…afterwards…I was so afraid that you had-had died."

"Afraid?" he asked, "If I recall, Christine, you left."

"You told me too," she argued.

"You had a choice."

"No I didn't. You never gave me a choice!"

"You always had a choice!"

"When?" she asked, "was it when you locked the door? Or maybe when you made me go with you, when you made me leave, when you made me sing, took me from the stage or made me leave with Raoul…tell me, Erik, when did I have a choice?"

Erik ground his teeth together, "You would not have stayed."

"How do you know that?" she asked, then shook her head sadly, "I would have stayed…why did you send me away?"

"You wouldn't have been happy," he said softly, "you would have stayed to save him, not because of me…I sent you away because I didn't want that…because I love you."

Love, not loved. He was still in love with her, even after everything that she had done, he still loved her. He should hate her, she knew that, and that he didn't confused her. All she could do was shake her head, "Erik, I…I'm so glad that you're safe…I was so sure that…"

She closed her eyes as a few tears escaped from beneath her lashes, and soft leather brushed against her cheek as he wiped them away with his thumb, "Don't cry, Christine."

"I felt so guilty for so long," she murmured, smiling slightly as she reached up to trace his jaw line with her fingers, "and no one understood…"

* * *

He seemed to turn to stone beneath her touch. Not a muscle moved as she traced his jaw, and she could only think that he looked so handsome with the mask on. No one would ever be able to guess at what lay behind that concealing piece of leather. Though in reality it wasn't so bad, not once you got used to it. 

"It wasn't your face," she murmured, smiling at his confused stare, "the first time…it wasn't your face that frightened me. It was your temper."

His shoulders fell in a silent sigh, and she cupped his cheek gently, watching as he closed his eyes. After a moment the tip of his tongue flicked over his lips, "You should go back…"

She gave a small nod and took her hand off his cheek, "You're right…are you coming?"

He gave a small shake of his head, "No…good night, Christine."

He then leaned in to kiss her forehead, but instead she turned her face up and pressed her lips to his. The kiss only lasted a second before he pulled away, that small touch causing his head to spin. Neither of them said anything, though Erik walked with her back to the parlour. Once at the door he murmured a goodnight before opening the door for her.

She went in and sat down beside Raoul again, praying that he face didn't give anything away. She saw Alex give a small nod to Erik, who returned it before disappearing from the doorway.

"What was wrong with him?" the count asked brusquely.

"Oh…he-he said he wasn't feeling well," she said quickly.

"Oh? And what, pray tell, was wrong with him this time?" he continued, "He seemed fine to me."

"He said that he had a headache," she answered.

"Humph, a headache indeed," the count muttered, "well, I suppose that is what he gets for eating nothing at dinner and still drinking the wine."

"Well, then he should feel better in the morning," Adrienne said.

"Oh, I'd say that is for certain," Alex agreed.

Christine gave a small sigh, biting her lip guiltily when Raoul placed a hand on her back. He leaned in slightly, "Are you alight?"

"Fine," she answered softly.

An uncertain smile flickered across his lips, and he gave a small nod before sitting up again. Christine gave a small smile and tried to focus on the conversation for a minute, only to have her mind wander again. She finally gave up and excused herself to go to bed. She still didn't know why she had done it, after all, wasn't she engaged to Raoul? She touched her lips gently and shook her head. He shouldn't make her feel this way, but he did and she couldn't deny it, but she also could not deny the promise she had made to Raoul.

* * *

**A/N: O.o Wow...short chapter, and yet so full of...emotion, I guess. I dunno, I think it's a decent chapter, even though it took way too long to update...anyways, chapter 30, makes me realise that I have to decide whether or not I'm going to re-write the sequel or merely end it's miserable existance...ugh. Please leave me a review, and I'll update once I'm done that essay!**


	31. Angel

Angel

Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on. Regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all, nothing's like before - Simple and Clean (Utada Hikaru)

**RIP Catelan, you will be missed.**

The storm lasted for the greater part of the night, leaving the grounds of the estate covered in a thick layer of snow. Alex was looking at it in the morning with a grim expression.

"Weren't you supposed to be leaving tomorrow, Philippe?" he asked.

"Yes," he sighed, "but unless it gets very warm today, I cannot see that happening."

"Well, you are welcome to stay until the weather clears up," the countess assured him, then turned slightly, "oh, good morning, Erik."

Erik looked past her and out the window, "It did snow all night then…good morning, Madame."

"How are you feeling this morning, dear?" she asked, placing a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.

"Well…" Erik replied slowly, eyes trailing over to Christine, who massaged her temples, "it was just a headache."

"That is good to hear. Eat up, dear."

Erik sighed and started to stir the hot cereal, though he never actually lifted the spoon from the bowl. There was just something so unappealing about the greyish gook that hinted against it being edible.

"So, I suppose that our guests will have to stay until the weather clears?" Erik asked.

"Of course. They will be welcome here until the snow clears and the channel is passable," the count replied, "what, did you think we were just going to throw them out into the cold?"

"One can always hope," Erik muttered, then added, "well, for certain individuals."

"I certainly hope I'm not one of them," Philippe teased.

"Oh no, of course not, Monsieur," Erik replied, "nor Mademoiselle Daae for that matter."

"Me then?" Raoul asked.

"Well, you do catch on quickly now, don't you, boy?"

"Monsieur Erik," Adrienne scolded, "that is terribly unkind."

"Yes," the count agreed, "watch your manner, Erik; you seem to be forgetting them this morning."

Erik gave a small shrug and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was so tired of guarding his tongue whenever he opened his mouth. It seemed that to him that no matter what he said, or anyone said for that matter, that it would offend someone, somewhere. It was something he had discovered a long time ago, and so had given up on it a long time ago.

* * *

"Now I have an idea," the countess said, just as the dishes were being cleared away, "why don't we all go for a walk on the grounds, hmm?" 

"I think it might be a bit cold for that, mother," Alex said.

"Nonsense! The sun is out, and as long as we dress appropriately it will be quite nice," she said, "you went riding in the cold yesterday, you'll be fine."

"I think that I will-"

"And no getting out of it," she said, cutting Erik off, "go on now, get dressed and we'll all have a nice time. Go on!"

They all dispersed and then reassembled half an hour later for their walk. It was cold out, but the sun did provide a small amount of heat, and the rest came from walking. Once outside they broke into two groups, with the men walking a few metres ahead of the women.

"The snow out here is so pretty," Christine sighed, "in the city we never get snow like this."

"Oh, where is it you live?" Adrienne asked.

"Paris, at the moment," she answered

"Oh, I believe that is where Monsieur Erik said he was from," Adrienne smiled, "I used to go to Paris often, it's such a lovely city."

Christine gave a small smile, "I like it."

"You aren't living with Raoul then?" the countess asked.

"No, I was just visiting his family for Christmas," she answered.

"Well you are a very lucky woman. Raoul is a very fine, very king young man," she said warmly, "I've known him for a long time, and he has always been like that. I suppose that's why I find it so strange that Erik took such a disliking to him…it's very odd."

"Maybe not," Christine murmured, "I mean, they are very different people. Almost as different as light and dark…"

"Hmm, maybe so," Adrienne agreed.

* * *

"If I recall," Erik growled, "I won the fight." 

"Not so," Alex argued, "I pulled you down."

"And then I nearly drowned you in the snow," Erik reminded him, "Therefore I won."

"Hmm, I believe I was repressing that memory," Alex muttered, "Yes, I guess you did win, in that case."

The count merely rolled his eyes at Erik's small smile of victory. He still wasn't entirely sure of how their conversation had turned to the winner of a past snow fight.

"I'm sure it was quite traumatic," Raoul muttered.

"It was, I assure you," Alex said, with a small shudder, "until you have had your face rammed into the snow by that man, you will have no idea. He is much stronger than he looks."

"I think I might have some idea," Raoul grumbled.

* * *

"Men," the countess said airily, as their conversation drifted back to them. 

Christine gave a small smile and scooped up a handful of snow, "Shhh."

"What are you-"

"Shhh!" Christine said, cutting Adrienne's question off.

Adrienne watched as Christine packed the snow into a small ball in her hands. She then raised it slowly before lobbing it at the back of Raoul's head, giggling when it collided with its target, scattering snow over his head and shoulders.

Raoul whirled around as Christine giggled, "I'm sorry," she managed to breath, "I couldn't resist."

"Oh?" he asked, scooping up a handful of snow and giving her a menacing look, "well then, maybe I can't resist either."

He packed it together quickly and raised his hand, but before he could throw it another snowball collided with the side of his head. The snow in his hand fell to the ground as he began to wipe the snow from his face, turning to Erik with a glare.

"It would be very inconsiderate of you to throw snow at a young lady," Erik scolded, brushing the remaining snow from his hands.

"I wouldn't have thrown it," he replied sharply.

"You've started a war," Adrienne whispered.

"I hope not," Christine murmured in response.

"Behave, you two," the count warned.

Erik gave a small shrug and fell back to walk with the women, figuring that it would be safer that way. After all, Raoul, or any of them for that matter, would have to turn all the way around to hit him. That would be plenty of time to move out of the way.

"Come to join us, dear?" the countess asked.

"Yes, well, the company is far better back here," he remarked, "if I am welcome, that is."

"Well of course," Adrienne laughed.

Erik gave a small smile and walked with them until they reached the small pond. The surface was frozen over, with a light dusting of snow covering the ice. The countess immediately started with a story of how Alex used to skate on it when he was younger.

"Only when I wasn't falling," he laughed, "I was a terrible skater."

Erik put a foot on the ice, slowly shift his weight onto it to ensure the ice was solid enough to support his weight. Then, once he was satisfied, he pushed off gently and glided across the smooth surface. He glided a few feet before coming to a shaky stop.

"You're going to fall," Alex joked.

"I'm not nearly as clumsy as you, young man," Erik countered.

Alex gave a small laugh and stepped onto the pond as well. He wobbled significantly before finding his balance, and then shakily made his way over to Erik, who swiftly moved aside as Alex came to an unstable stop

"Well, that was fun," Alex said with a nervous laugh as he nearly lost his balance.

Christine laughed and slid onto the pond with them. When they were younger, Madame Giry had taken her and Meg skating every winter. She had always told them that is would help with their balance, which it did. With a small smile she did a small jump, causing Alex's jaw to drop, as he once again wobbled.

"Now you are just showing off," Alex said, as Christine gave another small hop.

"You're all going to fall!" Adrienne called.

Erik gave a small smile before gliding back over to them, and stepping carefully from the ice, "You have so little faith, Mademoiselle."

"Christine, please be careful," Raoul called, "you could get hurt."

Alex stumbled off the ice first, with Christine following his at a distance. She didn't want to get too close and knock him off balance. Or to have him fall and knock her off balance.

"You really are impossible," Adrienne sighed.

Christine gave a small smile as she carefully stepped from the ice. She had one foot off when her other foot slid back on the ice, causing her to lose her balance and fall forward. Erik moved forward and caught her as she fell, knocking him off balance. They both hit the ground, Christine falling on Erik and knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Good catch," Alex teased, helping Christine up.

"Ow," Erik coughed.

"I'm sorry," Christine worried, "did I hurt you?"

"Not badly, Mademoiselle," he groaned, slowly sitting up, "the ground broke my fall. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she answered with a small smile, "it seems that I still have my guardian angel…"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, and I apologize if there are any glarign mistakes, but it's been a horrible start to the week and I just didn't feel up to doing more than a spelling and grammar check...finished my essay though...yay? Yeah...please leave me a review.**


	32. Unmasked

Unmasked

I'm here waiting on the edge. Would I be alright showing myself to you? It's always been so hard to do… - Stray

Christine gave a small gasp and bit her bottom lip nervously, hoping that the others hadn't caught her slip of the tongue. Erik remained calm however, giving a small nod before replying silkily, "So it would seem."

"Guardian angel?" Adrienne repeated.

"Would the angel like some help up?" Alex teased.

"I can help myself up," Erik said with a slight snarl, dusting himself off, "thank you, young man."

"Christine, what did you mean by that?" Adrienne asked quietly, causing fear to momentarily well in Erik's stomach. Of course it would be Adrienne to ask that question, she never did know when to keep her curiosities to herself.

"Oh, umm," Christine stammered, blushing slightly, "it-it's a bit…complicated."

She spoke so softly it was hard to hear her, and the colour rose in her face with every word. Erik tried to keep him face as impassive as possible, even with panic slowly rising inside him. Raoul certainly looked worried, and quickly went over to her side, brushing his fingers gently against her arm.

"What do you mean?" Alex asked gently.

"Well," Christine shrugged slightly, "he-he was…for a while, I mean…"

Alex turned to Erik, frowning in confusion, "Erik?"

"It is complicated," he said, mulling over his possibilities as he answered, "and it was a long time ago…it would be hard to explain."

"We have time," the countess pointed out.

Erik hid a wince, "Yes, I suppose we do. But still…I suppose I could attempt an explanation. But I would prefer that we return to the house first, as it is rather cold out."

The countess gave a small nod, "Of course, dear."

Erik gave a small sigh of relief. The trek back to the house allowed him time to organise his thoughts and work out a plausible story. It certainly wasn't one that he wanted to tell standing up, if at all. That is if he told them the truth, which he intended to do, with a bit of artistic license.

* * *

Once they were inside the countess had tea made and they all sat down in the parlour. No one pestered Erik to start the story, something that he was glad for. Instead they got their tea and the small treats that came with it. Erik took a sip of his and was about to begin when Christine began.

"It-it started when I went to live at the Opera Populaire," she explained, relieving some of Erik's burden, "I went to live there after my father died. He had been a violinist with the orchestra for a short time, and when he passed away I went to live in the ballet dormitories. Madame Giry, the ballet mistress, had agreed to take me in, you see."

"That is when I met Christine," Erik interjected, his voice sounding oddly faint in his throat.

"Yes…I was distraught after my father's death. He had been everything to me, and without him I was lost," Christine said, "but before he died, my father promised to send me the Angel of Music."

"Angel of Music?" Adrienne asked.

"Oh, umm, it was from a story he told me all the time," Christine explained, "he used to tell me that all musicians would be visited by the Angel of Music during their life, and promised to send it to protect me."

Erik took a deep breath and started there, when he would still have the opportunity to change the story for his benefit, "I was working at the Opera Populaire at the time, and I'm afraid that I started Miss Daae the first time I ever met her. You see, she used to pray in the theatre's chapel, and one day I came across her by accident. I walked in on her one day and heard her singing…I cannot remember what but I thought she had a lovely voice. When I went to tell her that she screamed and ran away."

"I have no doubts," the count muttered, "You make hardly a sound when you walk."

"Indeed," Erik agreed, "well, she came a few seconds later to say she was sorry. It was then that she asked me the strangest question. She came up to me and asked 'are you the Angel of Music?'"

"What did you say?" the countess asked.

"I can't remember," Erik replied, "I believe that I said that I was. After all, she seemed to want me to answer yes, and Madame Giry had told me about her, and how upset she had been over the death of her father, and I didn't think it would do any harm."

"He taught me to sing," Christine said, "and I idolized him, as any little girl would do. I looked at him as my guardian, and he protected me to an extent…"

"What exactly did you do at the theatre?" Alex asked, frowning slightly.

"Odd jobs," Erik answered, waving his hand dismissively, "I was there to help with the orchestra for a time. But that isn't really of any concern. I taught Christine for some time, but my time at the Opera Populaire wasn't meant to last forever and…I had to leave."

There was a long moment of silence before Adrienne spoke, "That's it?"

Erik gave a small nod, "Yes."

"But…what about Christine?" she continued.

"I didn't tell her," Erik answered, adopting a look of embarrassment, "I have never been good with good byes so I simply left."

"I couldn't believe it," Christine murmured, "I-I was fifteen by then, and was alone all over again. It was then that I realised that I had never even learned his name…"

"Well, that explains a few things," the count muttered, "doesn't it now?"

"I guess so," Alex agreed, though there was still a frown playing on his features.

"Hmm, if you are referring to my disliking of your young friend, than I can shed some light on that situation," Erik murmured, "you see, I was always rather protective of Christine as her mentor…perhaps it could be seen as fatherly affection, and father's are never fond of their daughter's lovers, are they?"

"Never," Adrienne laughed.

Erik could see the doubt in Alex's eyes and gave a small shrug, "I have some work to attend to, if you will excuse me?"

"Of course, dear," the countess said, "will you be down for lunch?"

Erik glanced at the clock before shaking his head, "Doubtful."

"Supper?" the count asked.

"Perhaps," he answered, "enjoy your afternoon."

Christine watched him leave the room before letting out a small sigh. It was amazing to her at how he could invent a story so quickly, building it around actual events, but without actually telling the truth. What surprised her more though, was the fact that he had told it so easily, pulling the wool over the eyes of those around them. She felt Raoul kiss her cheek gently, and gave a small smile.

"You're alright?" he whispered.

She nodded, "Mmm hmm."

* * *

Erik didn't come down for supper, though it didn't truly come as a surprise to anyone. The count had demanded that Alex retrieve him, but after a short argument Alex convinced his father to let Erik be. They settled with Alex going up after the meal to get him down fro drinks, giving Alex the perfect opportunity to talk to Erik.

"You weren't telling the truth," Alex said, leaning against the door frame.

Erik cursed quietly, standing up and whirling around to block the desk, "Merde! Have you ever been told that you should knock first?"

"This morning," Alex continued, "that story you told, it was lovely, but it wasn't the truth."

Erik glowered at him for a moment, before turning around and rearranging the papers on his desk, "No, it was not."

"Philippe told me the most interesting story yesterday, you know?" Alex asked, stepping in and closing the door, "I'm sure that you've heard it. In fact, I'm sure that you are well acquainted with it."

"And what story might that be" Erik growled, continuing to shuffle the papers.

"The story of the Phantom of the Opera," Alex said, giving a small smile when Erik stopped what he was doing and turned around, "you know it then?"

Erik gave a small snort, "Yes…"

Alex waited for a moment, his smile fading, "You still love her, don't you?"

If Erik was surprised by the question, he didn't show it, "Yes, but so does the boy…and she has made a promise to him."

"I'm glad that you see that."

"I will be leaving tomorrow," Erik murmured, reaching behind him to touch the desk, "for Rome."

"Why?"

"Because if I stay any longer I will make a mistake," he replied, "one that will not easily be fixed. She will be married to the boy and she will be happy…but that will only happen if I leave now and let her forget about me."

Alex nodded his head, "I understand, and won't stop you if you think it is best."

"I have spent my entire life travelling, young man. You needn't worry about the weather or anything foolish like that."

"My father wanted you to come down for drinks and visiting," Alex said, changing the subject, "I'll tell him you're not feeling well."

"Merci," Erik said, turning back to the desk, "and please close the door on your way out."

"Of course," Alex murmured, leaving and closing the door behind him.

* * *

**A/N: That wasn't a loooooong update time...noooooo. Anyways, hope you liked the chapter, I'm still on the fence about it, but at least I got it done. Umm, please leave me a review, and I should get back to studying Romans!**


	33. Indecision

Indecision

A route of many roads leading from nowhere to nothing - George Berjeley

The count looked up as Alex entered the room and sat beside Adrienne. He raised an eyebrow after a moment, "And where is our masked friend?"

"In his room," Alex replied.

"Ah, and what malady keeps him from us tonight?"

"He didn't say he was sick, father," he answered irritably, "he'll be down for breakfast though, so you can ask him then."

"Is something wrong?" Adrienne asked, noticing Alex's tone.

"No," he murmured.

"He's angry, isn't he?" Christine asked softly.

"No, I don't think he is," Alex answered, "he's just…Erik."

"He isn't angry," the countess assured her, "trust me, if Erik were angry then we would know. He isn't very good at hiding it."

"Indeed. Several good men have had their hands nearly crushed for an off handed remark or a lingering stare," the count chuckled, "I'm sure he broke at least one hand at the party."

"He attended a party?" Christine asked in disbelief.

"Oh yes," the countess said, "but I would say that he enjoyed it. In fact, it was more like torture by his standards."

"And such strange standards they are," the count grumbled, "the man will stitch his own side and suffer through infection without a single complaint. But put him in a room full of people and he'd make you think it was physically paining him"

"He sounds like an interesting individual," Philippe chortled.

"Yes," the countess agreed, "but he never told us anything regarding his past, the poor dear. I think I might go check on him, just to ensure he's alright."

"He isn't a child, mother, he can take care of himself," Alex remarked.

The countess frowned at her son's tone. True, they did occasionally come to their own disagreements, but they normally did not argue. But it wasn't that, because he wasn't really being argumentative with her. He sounded angry about something, and she couldn't figure out what it was.

"You're sounding like Erik," she scolded, rising from her seat.

A small smile graced his lips and he gave a small laugh, "Well we can't have that. One of him is more than enough for the world."

"Indeed," she agreed, "now, I will only be a moment. Please continue without me."

* * *

She made her way up to Erik's room and knocked once before slowly opening the door. She was surprised to see him lying on his bed, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. She would have thought him asleep if he hadn't turned his head slightly at the sound of the door. 

"A tad early for bed, isn't it?" she asked, knowing his normal sleeping habits.

"It depends on who you are," he rumbled.

"Very true," she nodded, "how are you feeling, dear?"

He sat up with a small grunt and eyed her for a moment. How did he feel? It seemed like such a simple question, but he didn't know how to answer it. He wanted to leave, but at the same time he also wanted to stay. He wanted to move on, but at the same time he didn't want to. After a few moments he shrugged, "Fine."

She gave a small smile at his final answer, after all, it was obvious that he wasn't fine, she could see it in his eyes. He looked confused and uncertain, two things that she wouldn't normally associate with Erik.

"Is that all you wanted to know, Madame?" he murmured.

She nodded her head as she looked around the room, taking in the surroundings. Two leather saddlebags lay open on the floor, with several items of clothing piled on the chair. On the desk books and portfolios were neatly stacked, along with other belongings. She turned and gave Erik a questioning look.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he informed her.

"Oh?" she asked, "and where do you plan to go?"

"Rome…" he shrugged.

"You sound so certain."

"I have to go," he muttered, "it's just the way things are."

"Is it?" she asked, "Well, if that is what you believe then I suggest packing. You can't go anywhere if all your belonging are piled up over there."

Erik gave a wry smile and got up to start packing, "No, I suppose not."

* * *

When the countess returned to the parlour only Christine and Adrienne were there. Adrienne gave a small smile, "The men wanted to look at something in the study." 

"Ah," the countess said, "most likely the bottle of scotch."

Adrienne gave a small laugh, "How is Monsieur Erik?"

"He's doing alright," she smiled.

"That's good," Christine murmured, staring at the teacup in her hands.

"You seem distracted," Adrienne commented, "is something wrong?"

"No," she sighed, "I guess I just have a lot on my mind. You know, I never thought I'd see him again? But here he is…its just strange."

"You love him, don't you?" the countess asked.

Christine looked up from her tea, "Who?"

"Erik," the countess said, smiling as Christine blushed, "he loves you, child. I think more than he would like to admit."

"I-I don't think…" she trailed off, "I love Raoul."

The countess nodded her head, "Yes, I can see that too."

Christine gave a small, mirthless laugh, "I don't even know what to think anymore. I never expected to see him again, and now that he's here I don't know what to do. He was such a big part of my life for so long…I think that it would be impossible for me not to love him. But…"

"But you've made a promise," the countess finished for her.

"I have," she agreed, "and I'm happy with Raoul."

"That is good to hear, because he loves you very much," the countess said, then let her smile fall slightly, "Erik will be leaving tomorrow."

"He will be?" Adrienne asked.

Christine felt a lump rise in her throat at the news, and swallowed hard against it. The thought of losing him again hurt, though in the back of her mind she knew it would be for the better. At least she knew he was alive now, which was far better than before.

"Well," she murmured, "maybe it's for the better…do you know where he will be going?"

"I think I'll let him tell us that at breakfast," she said, "now, why don't we go and get ready for bed. It's getting late, after all, and I think we're all a bit tired."

Christine nodded her head and got up to go to bed. This time she would get to say goodbye and would have an idea of where he might be. Yes, it would be for the better.

* * *

**A/N: Thursday, saturday...they're close enough. Anyways, I'm finished school for the year, though I'm pretty sure that final exam was created by the devil. Yup, three essay questions in fifteen minutes...and the teacher changed the questions that he told us we would have, so I couldn't use all the nice pre-planned answers I had (since I knew there would be 3 essays to write after about 70-ish multiple choice/matching/short answers). Oh well, I couldn't actually fail the course, and I know that I kicked butt on some of the previosu questions. Hopefully the updates will be more frequent throughout the summer. Please drop me a review with likes, dislikes, comments or questions.**


	34. Favourable Weather

Favourable Weather

The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder. - Virginia Woolf

"Breakfast," Alex said, knocking on the door before opening it.

Erik turned to look at him from the desk before glancing at the clock, "So it is. Give me one moment, young man."

Alex nodded and waited as Alex went over to the bed. On it rested the saddlebags, and he closed them and moved them to beside the desk before adjusting his waistcoat. Then, after a quick look in the mirror he pushed past Alex, "Well, come now, we do not want to be late."

Alex shook his head and gave a small laugh before following him down the stairs. Erik seemed so calm about everything, almost as if he weren't leaving. But as soon as they came to the door of the dining room he visibly hesitated. But then, after a deep breath he opened the door and stepped into the room, Alex one step behind him.

"Good morning, dear," the countess smiled, "how are you this morning?"

"Fine," he answered.

"That is good to hear," the count said, then added, with a hint of sarcasm, "we missed you at supper last night."

"My apologies," Erik replied, "I am sure that someone gave you my reasons."

"Reasons?" the count asked, "what reasons might those be?"

"Ah," Erik said, "so they didn't tell you. Well then, I suppose it is my news to announce. I will be leaving this afternoon."

"Leaving?" the count asked, then paused, "I see. We will discuss this after the meal. Please sit down."

Erik gave a small nod and took his seat, he could tell that there would be an argument over it, and the count wanted to have a pleasant meal, "Very well."

* * *

Once the meal was finished the count lead Erik into the parlour. Erik hung by the door for a moment, before the count turned and motioned towards the armchair, "Sit."

Erik frowned at the command but took a seat anyways, "have I don something wrong?"

"No, you have done nothing wrong, Erik," he replied, taking a seat opposite him, "in fact I was quite impressed that you decided to share a bit of your past yesterday. Though I think that you should have told me about it earlier, such as when out guests arrived. Don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Erik admitted.

"But that is not why I invited you in here," the count said, "I wish to talk to you about your reasons for leaving."

"My reasons are my own, and I do not see any reason to discuss them with you."

"No, you have never seen much reason to discuss anything, have you?" the count asked, "none the less, I would like to know why. After all, you are under my employ and the estate in France is not yet finished."

"It is well enough along," Erik said, "and I was merely hired to design it, not to see it through the building process."

The count gave a small sigh, "Try not to be difficult, Erik, you know as well as I do that this isn't a good time for travelling. The channel is rough at this time of year, and the weather can be unpredictable. This is no time to be starting a long journey, and I suspect that you intend it to be a long one. Am I right?"

Erik nodded, "I plan on going to Rome, so yes."

"I thought something like that, and it would be foolish to start such a trip, so matter what your reasons are."

"And since when have you ever been concerned for my well being?" Erik asked.

The count sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Erik could be one of the most difficult people to argue with. He had immense knowledge, and yet he was still incredibly stubborn, even when he knew what others sad to be true. It seemed that as soon as he had an idea in his head he refused to give up on it, no matter how foolhardy it was. And yet, though the count didn't like to admit it, he had grown fond of the strange architect over the past months. He wasn't sure how it had happened, for Erik certainly wasn't a model of society by any means. The man was argumentative and had proven himself to be violent, but the count still found that he still enjoyed his company.

"You think very little of yourself, don't you?" the count asked, catching Erik off guard, "you are by far one of the most remarkable men I have had the fortune, or misfortune of meeting. But you fight against every kind word or gesture presented to you, and I cannot understand why. Do you think so little of those around you, Erik?"

There was a long stretch of silence then, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantle and the dull crackle of the fire. At length Erik shrugged, "I have never had any reason to think highly of the world."

"That is a shame," the count murmured, "Not all the world is cruel, you know?"

"I know. I have met people in my time who have shown me nothing but kindness as respect, and far more who have done the exact opposite. I'm afraid that the latter have had more of an effect on me."

The count nodded his head once, "More favourable weather."

"Pardon?" Erik asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"I would ask that you wait for more favourable weather before setting out for Rome," he explained, "that seems like a fair request, does it not?"

Erik frowned slightly and turned the idea over in his mind. He didn't truly want to leave; in fact the idea wasn't appealing to him at all. He had grown to like the count and his family, something he was reluctant to admit. Still, he knew that staying would provide him with many opportunities to mess up and ruin what he had.

"We shall see," he replied at length, "I'm reluctant to answer with anything other than that at the moment."

"Fair enough," the count replied, "I will give you time to think it over."

"Merci," Erik murmured, slowly getting up.

* * *

**A/N: Due to the immense shortitude of this chapter I will attempt to get the next one out by tomorrow evening/night/early the morning after. It wasn't going to be this short buuuuuut...well...it ended up this short. Please drop me a review.**


	35. Of Friends and Phantoms

Of Friends and Phantoms

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. - Anaïs Nin

Once breakfast was over everyone went their separate ways. Erik to the parlour with the count, the women off with the countess and Philippe to the count's study to wait for him. So Alex found himself sitting in his study with Raoul.

"You seem a bit upset about something," Alex noted, as Raoul fiddle with a compass.

"Not at all," Raoul muttered, "this visit is turning out just as I had envisioned it."

Alex sighed and shook his head, "I've never seen you act like this, Raoul."

"She loves him, Alex," Raoul said miserably, "after everything…she still calls him her Angel of Music…more like Angel of Death."

"I must say that whatever mood it is that you are in, Raoul, it is very unbecoming," Alex frowned, "you are engaged, you should be happy. Other than the obvious, why do you hold such contempt for him?"

Raoul shook his head, "It's just…he tried to kill me once, Alex."

"Ah yes," Alex nodded, "the infamous case of the Phantom of the Opera. Oh I know about it, your brother told me and, well…it wasn't hard to put two and two together."

Raoul gave a glum nod of his head, "Well, that's good I suppose…he nearly succeeded, did you know that? That man nearly ended my life."

"So you hate him for that?" Alex asked.

"Well yes, and no," Raoul answered, "It's just that…I know that he still loves her, and Christine…well, I just can't tell. She says that she loves me, and I believe her! But then…sometimes I'm not so sure."

Alex nodded his head slowly, turning over what Raoul had said in his mind. There has been a time, though it was short-lived, that he had worried about Adrienne's love for him. Looking back on it he thought it foolish, but she had been fascinated with Erik upon first meeting him. Even now he could see it sometimes, but he trusted her, knowing that it was only friendship that she wanted from him. Christine however, did seem torn between the two men.

"You're engaged," Alex repeated firmly, "but perhaps it would be best for a long engagement. Take some time to sort out all of your feeling, as well as hers."

"I love her," Raoul murmured, "but I think you're right."

Alex nodded, "I bet things will work out anyways."

"Oh, why does everything have to be so complicates?" Raoul asked, rubbing his hands over his face, "so you remember when we were children? Everything used to be so much simpler then."

"Indeed," Alex laughed, "but I can't say that I miss those days. A little challenge every now and then is what makes life fun. You have to makes mistakes once in a while, otherwise you will never grow."

"I just pray that the mistakes I make aren't too large," Raoul sighed.

Alex gave a slight chuckle, "Yes, I do too occasionally. I'm sure everything will be fine though, just wait and you'll see that I'm right."

"I wish I had your confidence, Alex."

Alex gave him a reassuring smile and got up from his seat, "One moment, I just want to see if my father has caused any trouble."

Raoul gave a small nod, "Fine…you know, I can't say that I'm unhappy to see him leaving."

Alex ignored the comment and made his way towards the parlour. He met Erik on the way there and stopped him, "Any news?"

Erik shrugged, "No. I will be in my room if you need me."

"Alright," Alex said, "maybe I'll come talk to you in a bit."

He waited another minute, until Erik was upstairs, to go to the parlour. He wanted to talk to his father, and was pleased to find him still there. The older man nodded as Alex entered and motioned towards the seat opposite him.

"I'm only here for a minute," Alex said, "I just wanted to ask why you wanted to talk to Erik."

"I merely wanted to discuss with him his reasons for leaving," his father answered.

"Ah," Alex said, "so you weren't unkind to him?"

"I will have you know, son, that I like Erik," the count said, wagging a finger at him, "he is a good man, despite the obvious discrepancies. I was just imparting on him the foolishness of leaving at this time."

"Oh?" Alex asked, "such as?"

"The weather. It has been rather unpredictable this year, and I told him that it would be unwise to travel at the moment."

"And what did he say to that?"

"He agreed to wait until the weather is more favourable," the count said, "a wise choice, if you ask me. Honestly though, for a while I thought he would just go ahead with his plans. He is, after all, a very stubborn individual."

"He agreed?" Alex asked, "You're certain."

"Quite certain. At first he said that he would consider it, but after a moment he said that he would wait," the count explained, a frown knitting his brow, "is something the matter, Alex?"

"No, not at all," he answered, "thank you, father. I'll see you at lunch, if not before then."

He left the parlour then, making his way back to his study. As he went he passed the women, who were making their way to the sun room. He stopped to kiss Adrienne on the forehead and caught a glimpse of Christine. She smiled at him and he nodded back.

"Where are you off to?" his mother asked.

"Back to the study," he answered, "I left Raoul in there."

"I see," she said, "well then, we will see you at lunch."

He nodded, "Of course."

He looked at Christine one more time as he passed them, the corners of his lips turning down in concern. Hadn't Erik himself said that he couldn't trust himself around her? That had been the entire reason for his leaving, and now he was staying until the weather improved. In the back of Alex's mind he wondered if Erik could leave her again. He gave an irritated sigh. His father had made things so much more complicated without even meaning to.

"Something wrong?" Raoul asked, noticing the slight frown on Alex's features.

"No," he answered, "I was just thinking about something."

"Something important, by the looks of your face."

Alex nodded his head slowly, "Yes, somewhat important…I have to go check on something, Raoul. The women were on their way to the parlour, if you wish their company, or you could find your brother and my father in his study."

"Alright," Raoul said, "I'll see you at lunch then?"

"I'll try to make it to the parlour before then," Alex replied.

* * *

The door to Erik's room wasn't completely closed, but Alex still knocked and waited for a reply. When one didn't come after a few moments he knocked again, "May I come in?"

"Yes," Erik answered, "what is it you want, young man."

"Just to talk," he said, watching as Erik tapped a pen against his palm.

"What about?"

"My father says that you are waiting for more favourable weather to leave," he replied, "is that true, or did you just say that to appease him?"

"It is the truth," Erik answered, suddenly seeming a bit uncomfortable.

"How long will that be?"

"Not long," he answered, "a day. Two at the most."

"Then why even bother?" Alex asked, "You told me that you were going to leave because you cannot trust yourself. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"To be quit honest I do not want to leave. I have grown to like it here, young man. Your family has been very kind to me, and have managed to weave your ways into my heart…I would even go as far as to call you a friend, Alex."

"Thank you," he murmured, knowing that being called a friend by Erik was an honour, "then as a friend I am telling you that I am worried."

"It won't be long," Erik muttered, "besides, it will give me time to finish something…now if you would excuse me, I was working on it before you came in."

Alex nodded, "Very well then…but know that I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"I thank you for your concern, young man."

"Oh, and you could try to be a bit kinder to Raoul," Alex added as he was leaving.

Erik shrugged, "I have no intention of harming him."

"I don't think he knows that," Alex said, "and you throw enough glares and cruel looks his way to warrant concern on his behalf. Keep in mind that he knows you as a phantom, not a friend."

"Fine, you can tell him that I will not hurt him," Erik grumbled, "and close the door on your way out."

* * *

**A/N: A chapter, as promised. Would have had it up earlier but I was too busy reading Hannibal Rising...and then watching the movie. I know, I'm a terrible procrastinator. Anyways, if I don't get another chapter up way later today, or really early on Friday it might be a couple of days. I'm getting some oral surgery, and don't know how sore I'll be after. Please drop me a review.**


	36. Light

Light

Love the moment. Flowers grow out of dark moments. Therefore, each moment is vital. It affects the whole. Life is a succession of such moments and to live each, is to succeed. - Corita Kent

The slow drip of melting snow finally drove Erik from his room. True, the warmth did mean that the weather was improving, and the sun was welcome after all the cloudy weather. The dripping water was a good excuse to leave the room, as he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work, but truthfully he knew that he should attend breakfast. After all, he hadn't shown his face most of the day before.

"You are late," the count scolded as he took his seat.

"Am I not usually late?" Erik asked, "One would think that you would have become accustomed to it."

The count shook his head, "It's never too late to break a bad habit."

Erik shrugged his shoulders elegantly. He wasn't truly late; no one had even started eating yet. So he poured himself a cup of coffee and allowed the countess to fill his plate.

"I hope you're in a good mood this morning," Alex said, a smirk touching his lips.

"Oh and why is that?" Erik asked, lifting his cup of coffee.

"So my father didn't tell you then?" he asked.

Erik paused with the cup against his lips, eyeing both Alex and the count suspiciously, "Tell me what?"

"Nothing of importance," the count said, waving it off, "we might have guests this evening, but it will all depend on the weather."

"Ah," Erik said, sipping his coffee, "and why would they be visiting?"

"It's new years eve," Adrienne explained.

"They will be coming to celebrate with us as we usher in the New Year," the countess said cheerfully.

"That sounds…interesting," Erik said, taking another sip of coffee.

"It will only be one family," the count assured him.

"It is your house," Erik pointed out, "you can invite whomever you want into it."

* * *

Once the meal ended the countess asked Christine to join her in the parlour. She agreed a bit reluctantly, knowing that Adrienne wasn't going to be there with them. It was always awkward when alone with people she barely knew, so when she saw Erik starting in the same direction she felt a bit hopeful. However, upon seeing them, he quickly veered off towards the stairs. 

Erik, dear!" the countess called gently, causing him to freeze on the spot.

"Yes, Madame?" he asked, turning his head slightly.

"Would you care to join us?" she asked, "or do you have something more important to do?"

"Not at the moment," he replied almost sulkily, "if you insist, then I will join you."

"Good, then come along," she said.

Erik sighed and followed them into the parlour, standing as they took their seats, then deciding upon the chair in the far corner. The countess clucked her tongue and shook her head, but didn't bother him about his seating choice. Instead she turned to Christine, who smiled nervously.

The countess smiled back kindly, "Are you looking forward to this evening?"

"I guess so," Christine answered, "it sounds like it will be fun."

"That's good, it always is," the countess smiled, "and you, Erik?"

"I cannot say," he shrugged.

"Have you never celebrated New Years?" she asked.

"Oh no, I have celebrated it," he said, "Though I have never truly seen the point of the whole affair. I never understood why I would celebrate the end of one year, only to enter another year or torment."

The countess shook her head at Erik's cynical outlook, "We celebrate in hopes that the New Year will bring something better than the year before."

"Well then, I still have very little to celebrate," Erik said, "but I will admit, I did have fun at the masquerades."

"Masquerades?" the countess asked.

"The Opera Populaire held extravagant Masquerades every New Year, and I attended them while I worked there."

"You did?" Christine asked, "Every year?"

Erik chuckled, "Yes, every year."

She couldn't believe it. All those years and he had been at every bal masque. It would have been unbelievable, except for the fact that it was Erik. He had never shown his face for all those years, or so she thought, and he hated crowds. But then again, maybe that was because in a crowd he stood out. At a masquerade he was just another face adorned with a fancy mask. Still, if the managers had known that the Phantom of the Opera had been, in fact, attending his masquerades.

"I thought that you didn't like crowds, dear," the countess commented.

"Perhaps not," he shrugged, "but the masquerades were different somehow. They were rather amusing, truth be told. There were extravagant costumes, hundreds of guests and music all night. They were terribly extravagant."

"Well, our get together will be no where near as grand, but I do hope that you will enjoy it anyways," the countess smiled.

"I will try," he murmured, and then quickly stood, "I think I will go for a walk."

"Of course," she nodded, "then put on some warmer clothes and be in for lunch."

He gave a small nod and exited the room, leaving Christine alone with the countess.

"Well, I do hope that you have been enjoying your time here," she said, "I know that you didn't intend to stay this long."

"Oh, it's fine," Christine answered, smiling nervously.

"Now don't be nervous, darling," she said, clucking her tongue, "I won't bite. You'd only have to fear that from my husband, or perhaps Erik on a bad day."

Christine couldn't help a small laugh, "I guess so…it's just that I'm still not used to, well, all this."

The countess nodded as Christine motioned to the room around her, "Ah, I see. Well, you'll get used to it soon enough."

" I guess so," Christine murmured. After all, maybe some day she would be used to the grand houses and the extravagant fashions.

"Just don't worry about it too much for now," the countess advised.

* * *

Erik sat down at the table and eyed his plate suspiciously. He wasn't entirely sure what it was they were serving for lunch, and was almost afraid to ask. Sometimes it was better not to know what it was one was eating. 

"What is this, exactly?" he asked, curiosity winning over.

"Its casserole," the countess replied, "our cook makes a wonderful casserole, you know?"

"Do I?" he asked distractedly, pushing the dish around his plate.

"Yes, I am sure that you have eaten it at least once before."

"Ah…and may enquire as to what is in it?" he asked.

"Oh, there's meat and vegetables," she said.

"I see," he murmured, "casserole: the method in which we can mix an assortment of food together and claim it is edible."

"Just eat it," the count sighed exasperatedly.

"I would rather not," he said, "I do not like casserole…it is mildly unnerving."

Raoul had to suppress a small laugh at that statement. Even he himself won't entirely sure why he found it so funny. Perhaps it was that the infamous Opera Ghost was acting like a child, "What's this, afraid of a casserole, Erik?"

"Everyone must fear something," Erik answered, all too seriously, "you, for instance, should fear me. I fear casserole."

Alex snorted a laugh, and quickly occupied himself with his meal upon seeing his father's scathing look.

"I should hope that you will be better behaved tonight," the count scolded.

"Have I ever…" he trailed off thoughtfully, "hmm, perhaps that it's not the best question to ask. However, I do not intend to cause any trouble for your guests this evening. Almost as much as I do not intend to eat this casserole. Therefore, I think I will leave you to your meal."

"Just be ready by seven o'clock," the count said, as Erik got up to leave, "out guests should be arriving then, and we will be eating shortly after."

Erik gave a small nod, "Of course."

* * *

**A/N:Sorry it took so long to update...yeah, I really don't like this chapter much. But then again I haven't liked anything I've written for the past couple of days...and probably won't for the rest of the week. But oh well, please tell me what you think in a lovely review.**


	37. A New Year

A New Year

It is easy to believe that life is long and one's gifts are vast -- easy at the beginning, that is. But the limits of life grow more evident; it becomes clear that great work can be done rarely, if at all. - Alfred Adler

Erik was seated at his desk when he heard the knock on the front door. With a quiet curse he glanced at the clock, only to curse again when he noticed that he had lost track of time. With a resigned sigh he rolled down his sleeves and picked out a burgundy waistcoat. He had no doubts that the count would be unhappy with him, so he dressed as quickly as he could.

He put the cravat pin on as he exited the room, praying that it was straight as he did up his jacket. He then slipped silently down the stairs, knowing that he made no sound when he walked.

There were three guests, all of whom had dark hair, though the man's was starting to get streaks of grey in it. His wife, however, seemed to have been spared the effects of aging, save for a few wrinkles around her eyes. With them was a younger girl, around the age of twelve, if he had to guess. He was fortunate; the greeting seemed to be ending as he slipped into the group.

"Erik dear, trying to avoid the guests, are we?" the countess asked.

"Not at all," he answered. Truthfully he wasn't trying to go unnoticed at all. In fact he didn't see how he could go completely unnoticed, "I merely did not wish to intrude."

"Well then," the count said, motioning him forwards, "I would like you to meet Mister and Misses Bardon, and their lovely daughter."

"A pleasure," Erik said, shaking the man's hand.

"Nicolas," he said, "my wife, Katherine and my daughter Alicia."

Erik bowed to each in turn, "A pleasure to meet you as well."

They both smiled as Nicolas spoke up, "Well, Richard, there are certainly more people here than I expected."

"Yes, well the Chagnys were only going to visit for a couple of days after Christmas. Unfortunately, with this unusually bad weather, they have not been able to leave. But the more, the merrier, am I right?"

"Of course," Katherine said.

"A bit of a shame, actually," the count said, "I'm sure they had festivities of their own to attend to in France."

"But alas," Philippe sighed, shaking his head, "forced to stay here in dull, old England to celebrate the New Year with our friends. Curse our luck!"

"The dining room!" the countess chimed, tapping Philippe's arm mockingly, "dinner should be served in a matter of minutes."

"I do hope it isn't casserole," Erik mused, enjoying the flicker of anger in the count's eyes, and the barely hidden laugh from Raoul.

"Impudent boy," the count grumbled.

"Truly intolerable," Alex agreed sarcastically.

Once they were all settled in the dining room and dinner was served Nicolas started up the conversation, "Well, Richard, you must tell me about this new estate you are building. I'm afraid that I haven't spoken to you in so long and missed all the gossip."

"Of course," the count laughed, "I will tell you all about it."

"Wonderful! I've heard rumours that you have the strangest architect working on the project."

Christine and Raoul both paused, turning their heads slightly to watch Erik's reaction. Adrienne and Alex also both stopped eating, Alex holding his breath while Adrienne bit her lip nervously. Erik, however, seemed to take the comment in stride.

"Well, I wouldn't call myself strange," he said thoughtfully, "eccentric, certainly, but strange?"

"Oh…you're the architect?" Nicolas asked, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"I am," Erik answered.

"Well…they were just rumours," he said.

"Of course," Erik said coolly, "I will have to show you the designs. Surely you have heard rumours about them as well?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I was told that they were amazing."

* * *

Once the meal was finished Erik fetched the designs for the new estate and met the others in the parlour. They were somewhat pressed for space in the room, but everyone managed to find a place to sit, and Erik managed to steal the armchair in the corner. He would let the count show off the designs for the house, as it didn't require any true explanation. Anyone could read a floor plan and look at sketches.

"It's quite beautiful," Nicolas murmured, "amazing on paper. How is the building coming along?"

"Quite well," the count said, "we managed to get a lot of work done before the winter, though it did cause Erik a fair bit of travel time. Still, I would say that it was worth it. We are certainly making record time with the construction."

The minutes seemed to tick by slowly, and Erik found himself drawn into a conversation with Alex and Philippe. It didn't take long for him to bore of the discussion though, and he finally leaned back in his chair to survey the room. Raoul, the count and Nicolas were talking about something, while Adrienne, Christine, Katherine and the countess were talking, while Alicia listened, looking thoroughly bored herself.

Erik cleared his throat to catch her attention, then motioned for her to come over. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the white mask, and then back at the other women. Erik ignored the look, knowing that she was only a child and that it didn't mean anything. After a few seconds she finally joined him.

"Yes, Sir?" she asked nervously.

"Sir," he chuckled," your name is Alicia?"

She nodded her head, "It is, Sir."

Another slight chuckle on his part. How proper children were raised to be, "You seem bored, Alicia."

"Oh no!" she said, biting her lip nervously.

"Do not lie to me," he said, resting his chin in his hand, "quite frankly, I am bored."

"Well…maybe a bit," she admitted.

"Would you like to see something amusing?" he asked, dual coloured eyes bright with excitement.

"Yes, or course!" she smiled.

Erik smiled before pulling a pocket watch out of thin air. This trick quickly caught her attention, as well as that of the other people in the room. He then proceeded to levitate it, along with another number of seemingly impossible tasks, before making it disappear again with a small flourish, and a puff of smoke.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"Magic," Erik answered simply.

"But how?" the girl asked again, "there has to be a way."

"A good magician never reveals his tricks," Erik answered seriously, "and I am the best."

The girl pouted slightly to try and get her way. It had no doubt worked countless time on her parents and her nannies, but Erik was not so easily swayed. In fact he found it a rather pathetic way to try and get what one wanted, and was quick to scold her for it, "You should not pout. It is unflattering, and you will find that it holds no sway with me."

She seemed taken aback by his tone and bowed her head, "I'm sorry, Sir."

* * *

As midnight approached the countess had glasses of champagne brought to them. Everyone got a glass, even the young girl. Alex seemed to be thrilled about it, and kept glancing at the clock.

"It's almost the new year, Erik," he smiled.

"How thrilling," Erik grumbled, swirling the liquid around his glass.

"At least pretend to be happy," Alex said.

Erik flashed a wide smile, earning a laugh from Christine and Adrienne. Alex just rolled his eyes, and Erik let the smile fade away.

"Was that so difficult?" the count teased.

"Hmm, I think I might have pulled a muscle," Erik answered.

Alex started to count down, and Erik turned to watch as the second hand ticked off the last ten seconds, before dragging itself and the minute hand and the hours hand across the twelve. Alex cheerfully proclaimed the New Year by claiming a kiss from Adrienne and exclaiming, "Happy New Years!"

"A toast," Philippe said, raising his glass, "may the new year bring with it a fresh start, and the opportunity to make new memories and cherish the old."

"And may it bring happiness," Alex added.

Erik raised his glass before sipping the drink, "Happy New Years, indeed."

Christine smiled and kissed Raoul before going over to Erik. Undeterred by his dark mood she smiled at him, "Happy New Year, Erik."

He gave a small sigh and kissed her forehead, "happy New Year, Mademoiselle."

Alicia hurried over to his then, looking up hopefully, "happy New Year, Sir!"

Erik smiled at her enthusiasm, and bent down to kiss her forehead as well, "Happy New Year."

"What, only the ladies get your attention?" Alex asked.

"Why would I give you my attention, young man?" Erik asked, "They are far prettier."

"He has got a point there," Philippe said, jabbing Alex with his elbow.

The countess gave an airy laugh and patted Erik's forearm, "Happy New Years, dear."

He gave a faint smile and sipped his champagne again, "Is this it?"

"I'm afraid so," the countess laughed, "we don't hold any grande balls with dancing and music. Unless of course you wish to supply some."

Erik raised his eyebrow, "Very crafty…however, I do owe you Christmas gift, now don't I? Perhaps one song…though I hardly know which one to choose."

"What about…" Christine started, then trailed off, "oh, I can't remember what it was called. You sang it for me one New Years eve."

Erik's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to recall the song, "Yes, I believe I know the one you are talking about. Do you remember any of the words?"

"No," Christine admitted.

"A shame," Erik sighed, "if you remember, feel free to join in."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you liked the chapter, crappy ending for it I know, but I'll try to get the next one up quickly. Just so you all know, I will be helping with a riding camp starting Monday, so updates may take a bit longer (I know, they can't take longer than they do now) but I'll try my best. Anyways, leave a review and I'll try to reply.**


	38. Final Performances

Final Performances

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle. - Anais Nin

Erik took a moment, clearing his throat and humming to himself. He then gave them an awkward half smile, "I am very out of practise, I haven't sung in a long time."

"I'm sure it will be fine, dear," the countess said reassuringly.

Erik gave a small nod and flicked his tongue out over his lips, "Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne." He took a small breath then, wetting his lips again before continuing, "And surely you'll buy your pint cup! And surely I'll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

Christine started to sing the chorus then, and Erik trailed off giving a small smile, "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

The small smile flickered slightly as he sang the next verse, "We two have run about the hills, and picked the daisies fine; But we've wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne."

Christine began to sing the chorus again, and this time he sang it with her, "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

"We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne," he sang, watching Christine as she tried to remember the words, "For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

Christine gave a small smile as she joined him for the last voice, singing quietly as she tried to recall the words, "And there's a hand my trusty friend! And give us a hand o'thine! And we'll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne…"

"That was lovely, dear," the countess said, gently touching his arm.

"Yes, well," he said, pulling away and smoothing his sleeve, "merci, Madame."

"You both have very lovely voices," she continued, smiling warmly at Christine.

"Yeah," Alicia agreed.

"Indeed," Katherine agreed, "have you ever had training?"

"I used to be a singer," Christine admitted sheepishly, "and Erik taught me to sing when I was younger."

"And you, Sir?" Nicolas asked.

Erik gave a small shake of his head, "I am self taught, well, mostly."

"Such an amazing voice," Katherine mused, "And yet you work as an architect?"

"I have had many jobs," Erik assured her, "this is the one that I find most pleasing and fulfilling."

"So neither of you sing anymore?" she asked.

"No," Christine answered, a hint of sadness in her voice, "not anymore."

"A shame," Nicolas said.

"I suppose," Erik murmured, his voice growing distant, "it is late. Perhaps…"

"We should go to bed," Alex said, finishing Erik's sentence for him."

"Yes, that," Erik muttered.

"A wonderful idea," the countess agreed, "other wise every one will be tired and grumpy in the morning."

* * *

There was a lot of commotion then, as everyone got up and said their good nights before heading off to their rooms. Christine managed to give Raoul a quick kiss before heading off to her room, where a nightgown was already put out for her. She changed into it quickly before sitting down at the vanity to braid her hair for bed. She could remember Madame Giry and Meg both complaining that her hair was too hard to braid, but she had never found it overly difficult. 

As she prepared herself for bed she began to hum to herself, running a brush through her hair to try and remove any tangles before braiding it. She smiled as she realised that the maids always seemed to lay everything out for her. It seemed like a very kind thing for them to do, but then again, she supposed that they were employed to do such things. She guessed that she would have to get used to that sooner or later.

* * *

Alex pushed open the door to Erik's room to find him undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Erik turned and raised his brow at him, "Yes, young man?" 

"I just came to ask if you were alright," he said, "you seemed a bit…off, I guess."

"I am fine, young man," he answered, "I've told you before not to worry yourself over me."

"If you say so," Alex said, knowing full well that if Erik didn't want to say anything, he would never be able to pry it from him.

"If that is all, then good night, young man."

"Yes, good night, Erik," he murmured, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

The door to Erik's room closed with a quiet click and Alex headed towards his own. He passed Christine's on the way and could hear her humming softly to herself. It was true, she had a beautiful voice, and so did Erik. Shaking his head slightly he left the door and headed for bed.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, shortest chapter ever? I think so. But I wanted to get something up, since I won't be getting much, if anything, done this weekend. Anyways, I managed to get through riding camp without having any of the campers killed. Honestly though, I have never yelled more in my life! Kids don't seem to understand "Do not go near the horses, they will bite!" or "Move it! We're bringing the horses in before it storms, and they are nervous and they will kick" they're just like "Ooh, horsies." Oh well, show this weekend, I'll try to update by tuesday or wednesday. Please review. Oh yeah, and if any one can connect Phantom of the Opera and Auld Lang Syne...I dunno, I'll think of something that's prize-like.**


	39. Night Time Encounters

Night Time Encounters

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. - Percy Bysshe Shelley

Erik walked over to the door once Alex was gone; pressing his hand against it to ensure it was closed. For a moment he considered locking it, but disregarded the idea. Instead he went over to the window, opening it a crack to let the cold air into the room.

The cold air felt good on his face, and seemed to help clear his oddly hazy mind. He couldn't exactly say why it felt so hazy, it might have been the champagne, or it might have been Christine. She had always stripped him of his better judgement, and even now she was doing so. With a small sigh he lay back on the bed, pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes, knowing that he should have just left when he had said he would. It had been foolish of him not to.

* * *

Christine gave a small sigh as she sat down on the edge of her bed. She knew it was late, but sleep didn't seem at all appealing, all she could think of was Erik's singing, and of being able to sing with him again. It had been so wonderful, and even now the melody was stuck in her head, as she knew it would be for quite some time.

With a small sigh she got up from the bed and slipped on a dressing gown, tying it tightly. The wooden floor felt cold beneath her feet, and creaked slightly as she tiptoed over to the door. Pressing her ear against it, she slowly started to open the door. It was late, and everyone would probably be in bed, if not already asleep. No one would mind if she went for a little walk around the house, as long as she kept quiet.

Luckily the door was silent, and as she looked down the hall she noted that all of the other doors were closed. This relieved her slightly, as she didn't really want to explain what she was doing out in the hall at such a late hour. With that in mind, she made sure to close her door as well, just in case someone came into the hall and saw it was open. She then turned and ran into someone, jumping back with a small squeak.

"So, you had the same idea that I had?" Alex asked quietly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, I suppose so," she murmured.

"I couldn't sleep," he elaborated, "and decided to go for a little walk. I was thinking the kitchen. Would you care to join me?"

"Oh, certainly," she said, thankful that he seemed to be ignoring the fact that she was dressed only in a nightgown and dressing gown.

"Splendid," he said, leading the way, "I know for a fact that there is some shortbread in there."

Christine gave a small laugh, "How splendid."

Alex was right in his prediction of shortbread, and even managed to find himself some milk to serve with it. Christine couldn't help but find it a bit comical, though she couldn't decide exactly why.

"You sang beautifully tonight," Alex complimented.

"I didn't really sing that much," Christine admitted, "but thank you. I was actually quite nervous."

"Nervous?" he asked, "trust me; you have no reason to be nervous. You have a beautiful voice…ah, but that is not why you were nervous, was it?"

"No," she said shyly, "it wasn't."

He gave a small smile and offered her another piece of shortbread, "Well, nervous or not, you were brilliant."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the shortbread, "and do you always sneak down to the kitchens at night?"

"Only when I cannot sleep, and it is too cold out to go for a ride," he answered, "now tell me, Miss Daae, and you can be truthful. What do you think of England?"

"Its nice," she answered, "but I don't think I could ever live here."

Alex laughed, "No? Truthfully, I much prefer France to England. When I am married to Adrienne I have every intention of moving back. After all, someone will need to live in that gorgeous house that Erik designed."

"I see," she said.

"Hmm, you are enjoying yourself, though?" eh asked, "Have you ever been to England before? Because if not, then you must return in the summer, it's beautiful then. Everything is so green."

"I am enjoying myself, and I think that I visited once with my father, right before we went to stay in France," she mused, "I don't remember much; we were only here for a few days before moving to Paris. All I remember is being very bored, and having no one to play with."

Alex laughed and ate the remains of his shortbread, "I suppose it would be very boring if you had no one to play with. But you really must return in the summer, for my wedding perhaps!"

Christine smiled and nodded her head. Alex was certainly a friendly person, if not overly so. She actually wondered how he and Erik managed to get along as well as they did. After all, their personalities were so different, Alex being so extroverted and Erik so introverted. However it worked, from what she could tell they got along, though the relationship did seem a little strange.

"We should probably return to our rooms," Alex muttered, "after all, we don't want to be tired at breakfast."

"I suppose so," Christine agreed, then allowed Alex to lead her back up to her room. He even went as far as opening the door for her.

"Sleep well, Miss Daae," he said.

"You as well," she replied, turning to go into her room.

"Er, do you know when you will be returning to France?" Alex asked, causing her to turn around.

"I think Philippe said in two days," she answered, "but I cannot be entirely sure."

"I see…well then, good night."

"Good night," she said, slowly turning back into her room, waiting for him to say something else.

"He isn't so terrible, you know?" he asked.

"I know," she murmured, offering him a weak smile before closing the bedroom door, then adding: "but I've made a promise already."

* * *

Alex stared at the closed door for a moment, before slowly returning to his own room. Tow days, she had said. That didn't seem like very long, and Alex enjoyed visiting with his old friends. But every day that they were in the house was another day of torture for Erik. He knew that his friend was a master at controlling himself, save for his temper at times, but he was also aware that everyone had their limit. Now he could only pray that Erik's would not be passed in the next two days.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, from the last chapter _zeeksmom _got the reference, with Robert Burns writing Auld Lang Syne, and Gerry (who played Erik in da movie) being cast as Burns in the movie "Burns" (if it ever gets made). Anyways, got a chapter up as promised, and I just realised that I'm really close to finishing this story! Also, I probably won't get much updating done for the rest of the week, my one cat is pretty sick and we dont' think he's gonna make it...so I'm pretty upset over that, and I haven't really felt like doing much of anything lately. So please leave a review, I'll try to reply and update again soon as I feel up to it...**


	40. Goodbye

Goodbye

Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others. - Cicero

Alex bid farewell to their guests, smiling as he told them that they should visit again soon, and placing an affectionate kiss on the forehead of the young girl. He could see his father casting disgruntled looks towards the stairs. That morning Erik had opted not to join them for breakfast, and had likewise decided not to join them as they said good bye to their guests.

"That man," the count growled, once their guests were out the door, "you'd think that he had never learned his manners. Honestly! I can see him not coming down for breakfast, but not even saying good bye to our guests?"

"He's never liked guests," Alex said, shrugging it off.

"Well, then go and tell him that they have left. I would like him to come down sometime today. One meal in the company of the De Chagny's and Miss Daae will not kill him."

"No, but it might drive him over the edge," Alex muttered, then, upon receiving a scolding look from his mother, "Fine, I'll go get him, father."

"Good luck," the count said.

Alex made a noise in the back of his throat as he mounted the stairs. Sometimes he wondered how his father could be so insensitive, but then again, he supposed that his father didn't know exactly what was going on in Erik's head. When he though about it, he didn't entirely know either, he only had an idea of what was going through it. And so, when he finally reached the closed door to Erik's room he was reluctant to knock. Still, within seconds of his fist meeting the door, he heard Erik's voice from inside.

"Yes?" he asked, voice muffled by the wood.

"May I come in?" Alex asked.

"Yes, you may come in," Erik said exasperatedly, then the door opened, "I suppose you have come to scold me for missing breakfast. Or was it for not coming down to say good bye to the guests?"

"Something akin to that," Alex answered, watching as Erik seated himself at the desk again. He worked there for a few minutes, his pen flitting across the page in front of him. Then he turned his head slightly, just enough for Alex to see his amber eye gleaming from behind the mask.

"You are meddlesome," Erik said, standing up and turning to face Alex.

"Pardon?"

"I said you are meddlesome young man, meddlesome. You are always interfering with the affairs of others; you enjoy telling them what to do. You are meddlesome!"

"I would have been quite happy to leave you alone," Alex said, spreading his hands in front of him, "my father, however, has other plans."

Erik gave an irritable wave of his hand, "Yes, yes, he always seems to have those. What is it he wants now?"

"For you to come to lunch," Alex said.

Erik gave a mirthless chuckled and dawned his green waistcoat. As he dressed Alex looked around the room, noting that it was very tidy. Oddly so. There were no papers lying around, no books or clothes. The only things that were out were the papers that Erik was working on, and the pen and ink well that he was using to write.

"You're leaving," Alex murmured, looking at the saddlebags.

"Hmm, very observant, young man," Erik murmured, fixing his cravat.

"When?"

Erik turned to look at him, giving a slight shrug, "Tomorrow morning, I suppose."

"That seems like a plan," Alex said, "how are you planning to travel?"

"However I want to," Erik answered, slipping on a jacket, "the mare, then the channel and then…we will see how things unfurl. I suppose I will either travel by foot or by train."

"And you'll be going to Rome?"

"Perhaps," Erik said, walking towards the door, "but now, I am going to lunch."

When the two came downstairs they found Christine and Adrienne talking in the parlour. It seemed that Adrienne was filling Christine in on all the latest gossip, and Christine seemed to be enjoying it, even if she knew nothing of the people it was about. After all, the different affairs and scandals were interesting, and there seemed to be plenty that revolved around the theatre.

"Are you two going to spend all day gossiping?" Alex asked, kissing Adrienne on top of the head, "or are you coming to lunch."

"It depends on what we will be eating," Adrienne answered.

Christine laughed, "We will be right there, Monsieur."

"Call me Alex," he said, "or Alexandre. Anything but 'monsieur,' please."

"Very well then, Alex," she smiled.

Lunch was pleasant. The sun was filtering into the dining room, giving it a warm and cheerful atmosphere. Raoul and Alex were discussing something, while Philippe shook his head at them. Occasionally one of the other two would direct a comment towards him, and Philippe would shake his head more vigorously in attempts to avoid being dragged into the affair. Meanwhile Christine and Adrienne were discussing fashion with the countess, and Philippe finally turned his attentions to the count, leaving his brother and Alex to themselves.

While all this went on Erik sat quietly, observing the scene from his seat. He always felt out of place in such cheerful situations, as if he were outside looking in. It wasn't that he didn't want to join in; he suspected it would be nice, but he often found himself unable to.

"You seem a bit distant, dear," the countess finally said, "is everything alright?"

"Perfectly fine," he assured her, giving a small smile.

"Well then, why don't you join in?"

"I'm afraid that I have very little interest in women's fashion," he said smartly, "and I can't say that I want to get involved in whatever the boy and the young man are discussing. And I have never found discussing politics all that interesting."

"Well then, what do you find interesting?" Adrienne asked.

"Everything and nothing," he answered.

"Cryptic," Philippe said.

"But very true," Erik assured him, "tell me, Monsieur, when are you returning to France?"

"Day after tomorrow," he answered, "well, that is if the weather remains this favourable."

"Hmm, the weather is favourable for travel, isn't it?" Erik asked.

The count's brow furrowed slightly as he recalled their deal, "What do you mean by that, Erik?"

"I think that you know exactly what I mean," Erik answered.

"You mean to leave?" Adrienne asked, a hint of sadness in her voice, "when?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, "in the morning."

"Then I'll have to be here to say good bye," she said.

"I-I hope the weather will stay good for your travelling," Christine said, her voice strained slightly.

Erik nodded his head slowly, "Thank you."

"Do you still plan to go to Rome?" the countess asked.

"That is my intention," he nodded, "I hope to work there for a time…perhaps even stay there. But one never knows, I may decide to travel more."

"That doesn't sound like a very certain future," Philippe commented.

Erik shrugged, "Perhaps not, but I have learned far more in uncertain circumstances than in certain ones…"

"Very well then," the count said, "you are excused."

"Thank you," he said, standing and giving a neat bow as he left.

"Well," the count said, "if I can say one thing about him, it is that his manners have certainly improved since he first came here."

* * *

The afternoon seemed to pass slowly, and since Adrienne could not stay Christine found herself mostly in the company of the countess. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the older woman's cheerful attitude and lively conversation, she was a very kind woman, but Christine found her mind wandering too often to focus. All she could think about was the fact that Erik would be leaving the next morning, and that she might never see him again. 

She saw him at dinner that night, but he quickly disappeared once the meal was finished. She knew that it shouldn't upset her that he did so, for he would obviously have a lot to do before leaving. Still, seeing as she didn't know if they would meet again she wanted him to be around.

"Are you alright?" Raoul murmured, noticing her quietness.

She smiled slightly and nodded. It really was sweet how he noticed whenever she was upset, "I'm fine."

"If you're sure," he said uncertainly.

She nodded again, "I'm sure."

The time spent in the parlour that night seemed long, though in reality the countess suggested that they turn in earlier than usual. Christine was glad for that, and bid everyone a good night, though she wasn't truly tired. Instead she waited inside her room until she was certain that everyone else had gone to bed, then slipped out and headed for the closed door that belonged to Erik's room.

It was only after she knocked that the thought came to her that he might be sleeping. Her fears were quashed however when she heard him invite her in. She hesitated for a moment before opening the door and stepping inside, knocking that he wouldn't be expecting her, but more likely Alex. Her thoughts were confirmed when he turned and his eyes widened slightly.

"Ah," he said, "That explains why the knock was so quiet."

"I hope I didn't disturb you," she said.

"Not at all," he assured her, turning the chair around to face her, "is there something you wanted?"

She paused for a moment, then gave a small laugh, "I'm not really sure…I guess I just wanted to talk with you before you left. After all, once you're gone I doubt that I'll ever see you again."

Erik's brow puckered, as if he hadn't realized the fact before she said it, "No, I don't suppose we will…"

There was a short, awkward silence, in which Christine moved to sit on the edge of the bed. As she went the papers spread over the desk caught her attention, "What are you working on."

"This?" he asked, motioning to the papers, "a wedding gift for the young man and his fiancée. Since I will not be able to attend the actual event, I though it best to give them a gift before I left."

Christine approached the desk, looking down at the many notes scattered over the pages, "It's lovely."

"I'm glad you think so," he murmured.

She hummed a few bars of the score, a small smile playing on her lips, "I think that they'll like it."

Erik gave a small laugh, "I am certain they would adore it no matter what. Somehow I cannot see either of them being displeased with anything."

"Maybe not, but I think anyone would be glad to receive this as a gift," she said, shifting the pages.

"Perhaps-" he started, then seemed to think better of it

Another silence followed that, in which Christine sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, "So, you plan to go to Rome?"

"I do," he answered, organizing the papers again.

"You've been to Rome before, right?" she asked.

"Yes, when I was much younger. I loved the city then, and I suspect I will still find it just as beautiful now. If you ever have the chance, which I suspect you will, you should visit Italy. It is a truly magnificent country."

"Maybe I will," she smiled, "Raoul has spoken of travelling. He thought that Madrid would be lovely for a honey moon."

"Has he?" Erik asked, "Well…yes, I suppose it would be."

Christine bit her lip, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Erik answered, "you seem to be sorry far too much. He is a decent person, and you should be happy to marry him…I am happy for you."

"You are?" she asked, surprise painting her face.

Erik gave a quiet laugh, "Yes…or at least I try to be. After all, if you are happy then I am as well. He loves you very much, Christine, of that much I am certain."

She smiled sadly as a lump rose in her throat, "I love him too, very much so."

Erik nodded his head and inhaled deeply, "I know…"

"I hope that you'll be happy in Rome," she said after a few minutes, rising from the bed, "I should be getting to bed."

He stood as well, walking towards the door, "Yes, I suppose that I should try and get some sleep as well."

She paused at the door, watching his hand on the handle. Then, before she could think better of it, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. It seemed like an eternity that she stayed like that, before he wrapped his arms around her back to return the embrace. After a moment she felt his lips graze her forehead.

"I'm so glad I found you again," she said, pulling away and kissing his cheek, "I'll always love you too…but I think-I think this is right…good night, Erik."

* * *

The next morning seemed somewhat awkward. After all, Erik had never really been one for good-byes. Adrienne was sure to be there for breakfast, which Erik ate very little of, and was smiling for the send-off. 

"Everything is set then?" the count asked.

"Yes, I've been paid in full for my services, and I intend to check in on the site before leaving France. It is well on its way, however, and I cannot see anything going wrong. I have faith in those working on it," Erik assured him.

"Very well then," the count nodded, "you will no doubt be taking the white mare?"

"I intend to pay you for her," Erik assured him.

"No, you can have her," the count sighed, "she's no good for anyone else."

"I thank you," Erik said, "and I hope that I haven't caused you too much trouble in my stay here."

"Oh, you've caused more than enough trouble!"

Erik allowed a small smile to grace his lips. Despite the count's rules and disagreeable attitude, he had come to like him. Maybe not enough to go out of his way to visit again, but enough that he would consider it if he were near by.

"So you're really going then?" the countess asked, looking at his bags, "you're set on it?"

"I'm afraid so, Madame," he answered.

She clucked her tongue before wrapping her arms around his thin shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment before she scolded him, "Oh, it's just a hug, stop it! It's not going to hurt you."

She pulled back and regarded him at arm's length for a moment before pulling him back in, this time earning an arm around her shoulders and a pat on the back, "no, I guess it won't."

"Oh, you're such a dear, "she said, stepping back and sniffling slightly.

"You know, you picked a hell of a time to travel," the count grumbled, "being winter and all. I hope it isn't too trying for you."

"It's Erik," Alex laughed, "he'll be fine. He is one for taking risks, after all."

"Good bye, young man, Monsieur," Erik said, nodding to each in turn.

"Fare well, Erik," Alex said, his smile faltering slightly, "I insist that you write once you reach Rome."

"Of course…" he said, trailing off as he reached into one of the bags, "actually, I have something for you, young man, as well as Adrienne."

"Oh?" Adrienne asked, "What is it?"

Erik pulled out a portfolio and handed it to them, nodding for Adrienne to open it. She did, revealing a sketch of her and Alex on top of sever sheets of music. Erik cleared his throat, "A wedding present, since I won't be here for the actual event."

Its wonderful," Adrienne smiled, tears glistening in her eyes, "thank you so much, Monsieur Erik."

"It was my pleasure," he guaranteed her; "I hope that everything turns out as you hope."

She smiled at him, then moved forward and hugged him as well, kissing him on the cheek as she thanked him again. Erik could only clear his throat awkwardly and give a small laugh.

"Well, I hope that you have a safe trip," Philippe said.

"Thank you," Erik said, "and you as well."

"Indeed," Raoul muttered, "I hope you enjoy Rome."

"I will," Erik answered, "and thank you."

"Have a safe trip," Christine murmured, swallowing a lump in her throat. She hated saying good bye, but knew that it was the right thing.

"Thank you," Erik said, kissing her on the forehead, "I hope everything goes well for you."

"You too," she said.

He smiled, and then turned to Raoul, "You had better take care of her, boy."

"I will," Raoul promised with fierce conviction.

* * *

The white mare snorted as Erik balanced the packs on her back, she was unused to the weight and he made sure to rub her neck affectionately. He then guided her out into the cold winter air and, with the same grace he always used, he mounted and gently moved her foreword. 

He waited until he was off the property to look back on the estate, thinking that he might actually miss the house and its occupants. As he looked back the mare snorted and pawed at the frozen ground impatiently, earning a pat on the shoulder for her obedience.

"Let's go," he murmured once he had taken it all in, "we've got a long way to go."

* * *

Christine watched the mare move slowly down the path. Even when he disappeared from view she stood there, looking out over the snowy grounds. She and Raoul would return to France the next day, and then they could start planning the wedding. Something that she now found herself looking forward too. 

"Christine?" Raoul asked gently.

"Yes?"

"We should get ready, we're leaving tomorrow."

She nodded her head, but didn't turn to look at him. After a few silent moments she felt his arms wrap over her shoulders. She reached up and held his hands together, turning her head just enough to look at him

"I will always love you Christine," Raoul murmured into her ear.

"I know," she smiled, "I love you too."

He returned her smile and kissed her cheek, "Come on, let's go pack."

"Alright," she said, stealing another glance out the window. She knew that she would always love both of them, but felt at peace with her decision, "Raoul?"

"Hmm?"

"I think…that I'd like to go back to the theatre," she said.

He nodded, "I think that would be good…and I think that we should have a winter wedding."

"I'd like that," she agreed, then turned away from the window and followed him up the stairs to pack.

**_Fin_**

* * *

**A/N: Well, my kitty seems to be doing well, we brought him home to give him a few days of comfort and he ended up eating and drinking and seems to be getting better, and I conquered the _Harry Potter_ series at last, so I'm happy! I also just realised that this is the last official chapter, other than the epilogue...which will leave it with 41 chapters...which is uneven. But c'est la vie, I suppose...I like things in multiples of five...especially when reading chapters...and I cannot read part of a chapter, I have to read a whole chapter or I get really angry. Anyways, please review!**


	41. Epilogue

Epilogue

Hope is the thing with feathers  
That perches in the soul.  
And sings the tune  
Without the words,  
and never stops at all. - Emily Dickinson

Erik sat in the small, crowded café, his pen gliding across the paper in front of him. Frowning slightly, he reread what was already written on the paper, trying to decide whether or not the sentiments were too impersonal or not. In the end he supposed that it didn't really matter, all he needed to say was that he had arrived.

With a small flourish he signed his name at the bottom before folding the paper neatly and slipping it into his pocket. With a quiet sigh he finished his coffee and rose from his seat. Rome seemed to be all that he had remembered, though perhaps slightly less awe-inspiring than it had been in his younger days. Still, the city was marvellous in it's feats of architecture, and he found himself hopeful. Today he would mail the letter and return to the inn he was staying at, tomorrow he would set out in search of a job.

He stepped out of the café and into the warm spring air. Taking a deep breath he stroked the neck of the white mare before trailing his fingers across the face of the newer black one. Then, with a small smile, he stepped out and onto the street, the two horses following behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so hopeful when considering his future, and had to admit that it felt good to have a definite plan and a set direction.

* * *

Christine stepped out of the theatre and into the cool spring evening. With a small shiver she wrapped her arms around herself as Meg followed her out. 

"Oh, it's freezing out here!" Meg gasped.

"Come on," Christine said, tugging at her friend's arm and leading her through the crowds and carriages, "Raoul said he would meet us out here."

It only took a minute to find the carriage with the De Chagny crest, but they were still more than happy to climb into its warmth. Raoul smiled at them both and quickly kissed Christine on the cheek as Meg closed the door.

"How was it?" he asked as the carriage jerked forward.

"Wonderful," Christine beamed, "Meg was amazing."

"I'm sorry that I had to miss it," he apologized, "I promise to attend the next performance."

"It's fine," Christine assured him, "I know that you're busy."

"Not to busy for supper," he assured her, "Mademoiselle Giry, would you care to join us?"

"That's fine," Meg said, with an exaggerated yawn, "it was a long night and I think I'd rather just return home and go to bed."

Raoul gave a small nod and moments later the carriage jolted to a stop in front of the apartment that Madame Giry was renting for them. Meg thanked him for his kindness and bid Christine good night before hoping out and hurrying into the house. The driver ensured that she was inside before flicking the reins to move the horses on.

"Where would you like to go?" Raoul asked quietly.

"I don't care," Christine said, stifling a yawn as she looked out the small window, "that place we went last time was lovely."

"We'll go there then," Raoul said, "unless you'd rather just go to the café. We don't' have to have a real supper."

"That would be nice, actually," she said, turning and smiling at him, "I am a bit tired, and the café is always quieter."

"I'll tell the driver then," he said, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss.

Christine smiled and turned her attention back out the window, noting that the stars were shining brightly. She smiled slightly at that and found herself wondering if Erik had made it to Rome safely, or if he had changed his mind on the way. Then, as Raoul spoke to the driver her mind drifted to thoughts of there wedding and a small smile graced her lips. The future didn't seem nearly as frightening as it had so many months ago, and she found herself looking forward to what was to come.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this would have been up sooner, but my internet died on me...then me dad decided that he could fix it. So, it's a miracle I got it up this soon! Anyways, this is it, the story is now finished and I may start re-writing the sequel to it...I haven't decided yet. I will also (hopefully) have something new up soon. So, please leave me a review. Also, as a random fact, all Emily Dickinson poems can be sung to Yellow Rose of Texas...yeah, it's true.**


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